Key to the Past
by LilGreenImp
Summary: The present may be the key to the past, but the past that is unlocked often changes how the present is perceived. Buffy stumbles upon her heritage and finds that disclosed secrets change more than she thought possible.
1. Now Leaving Sunnydale

**Timeline:** Starts at the end of Becoming pt 2 (end of BtVS series 2). For HP the worlds cross in the summer between years 4 and 5, most of the events here will come from OotP and I will not be following the cannon introduced in books 6 and 7 (although some characters and back story may be used).

**Pairing:** None planned, if/when they do emerge I will not be telling until the relevant point in the story (this is unlikely as pairings will not be important in this story).

**Disclaimer:** All characters etc. from Buffy belong to Joss, M.E., Fox, and whoever else.

I do not own the Harry Potter Septology. The characters, locations and events used from these stories belong to J. and Bloomsbury publishers.

I have probably used themes/ideas which originated in other fiction/fan fiction, I read too much for this not to happen, no offense/infringement is intended by this (I usually don't know where my ideas come from but I do know better than to claim them as original). If this refers to you, please accept my apologies and remember that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

The only thing I can claim as my own is the specific order of words which follows (mostly forming coherent sentences).

**Feedback:** Is what keeps me writing. I read and appreciate every review I get (yes even the 'Update soon' ones; although I do adore a well rounded comment/criticism, just knowing that what I write is enjoyed means a lot).

**A/N1 - Spelling/Grammar:** Much of this story has only ever been self edited; this means that there are errors in there. I do keep reviewing it to catch them but I would be the first to admit that I'm fallible. If you spot any errors, or are confused by anything in the story please don't hesitate to let me know. Saying that, while I am happy to accept criticism and aim to improve, this is difficult if the comments are not specific; please give me clear examples of what is wrong so I can rectify the error and do better in future.

I am British, and this is reflected in my phrasing and spelling. Please be aware that some 'errors' may be due to the distinctions between British and American English. I apologise if this causes any confusion.

**A/N2 – Acknowledgements:** Many people besides myself have assisted in creating what follows. I have been lucky enough to receive thoughtful comments in reviews and emails that have influenced the direction of the story.

I have also had help from many sources in making my writing as comprehensible as I will permit it to be. The wonderful people who over the years have been generous enough to lend me their time to beta read chapters and reviewers who provided detailed descriptions of my errors have been essential in this respect. They have been very helpful in pointing out how I could improve what I write.

My eternal gratitude goes to all those who have assisted me.

Unfortunately I possess a relentless desire to fiddle with the story. Any mistakes remaining are entirely my own doing.

**A/N3 – Updates/Completion:** This story is currently unfinished and is updated as I complete chapters. It may be a while before this is completed (note... it's taken me years to get this far). If you do not enjoy reading unfinished works I would advise against continuing. Having said that, as I have always stated; barring unforeseeable incidents making me incapable of doing so, I will (eventually) finish this. In the mean time, I hope those of you who continue to read enjoy the ride as much as I have.

**A/N4:** I am sorry for the lengthy notes, the above will not be repeated.

_**Now Leaving Sunnydale**_

Hurriedly stuffing the last of her clothing and a few choice weapons into the bag, Buffy half climbed out of the window that she had escaped from on so many nights. Before taking off, she took one final look around the room that she had occupied for the past couple of years. It was a mess. In her hurry clothes had been randomly scattered over the furniture.

Under a short skirt, thrown over her bedside table when it was rejected as being useless in the life she planned to escape to, was a small wooden box. She hesitated; listening for any sounds in the house that indicated that her mother was moving around; that she might be caught. She heard the back door swing shut. Knowing there wasn't much time; she swiftly moved back into the room and opened the box.

Silver and gold flashed in the bright light streaming through the open curtains before the item was stuffed into her jacket pocket. She climbed once more through the window and jumped from the roof to the ground. Without a glance back, she took off at a run down the street; her hand in her pocket, still fiercely clasped around its contents.

* * *

She hadn't even noticed where she was running to until the buildings of her school came into view. Buffy winced in regret as she realised her former safe place was off bounds to her due to her expulsion. There would be no more late night research sessions in the library. She slowed to a quick jog, then a brisk walk, crossing the street so that her peers wouldn't notice her.

The normal hustle and bustle of school life carried on as if nothing had happened, students chattily greeting friends and discussing assignments. They wouldn't learn about demons or vampires unless they became their victims, or until it was too late and the world was sucked into hell. Only finding out when she failed in her duty to protect them. They would never learn of the sacrifices she had been forced to make to save the world.

Her gaze trailed along the street until she saw a group of people standing by the steps move to stand around a wheelchair. She felt a twinge of remorse as she remembered the small group that weren't ignorant to the world around them; her friends. She edged closer, hiding in the shade of the trees.

They were waiting for her. To go up to them full of smiles in the summer sun and complaints at the upcoming exams. To joke and laugh and regale them with the tale of how she had, once again, saved the world. They glanced about as they talked, hoping to catch a glimpse of golden hair bouncing towards them.

Her first instinct was to go to them. To let them know the world was safe. But then she took a closer look at the group. Her two closest friends and companions were badly injured; Willow in a wheelchair, Xander with his cast. Giles had cuts and bruises on his face; awkward gestures as he spoke, a stark contrast to his previously smooth movements, confirmed her suspicions that there were more unseen beneath his tweed suit. He raised his hand to his glasses and she saw that his fingers were broken. She only caused him… all of them, pain and disappointment.

She closed her eyes and once again saw the vision of her mother throwing her out of their home. They were all better off without her. There was nothing left here for her.

She took one final long look at the group that had helped her through so much over the past two years; standing in a loose circle silently looking about them, looking for her. Finally relenting, they disappointedly turned and slowly made their way into the school. After watching them disappear into the shadowy doorway, Buffy turned and made her way slowly back down the street. She no longer had the energy to run. She didn't have anywhere to run to.

* * *

Half an hour later Buffy was sitting on the seat of a bus headed towards LA. She stared aimlessly out of the window hoping for anything to take her mind off thoughts of what she was leaving behind. Her eyes alighted on a sign on the roadside "Now Leaving Sunnydale, come back soon!" That was it then. She had abandoned her friends and watcher to the Hellmouth. She wouldn't… couldn't come back.

She turned her head away from the window and shut her eyes, listening to the quiet chatter going on around her and the rattle of the engine. After weeks of all night patrols in search of her soulless lover and stress at the thought of destroying the demon that looked out of eyes that had once been so full of love, it had ended. The relief at it all being over brought about a feeling of calm and she slowly began to doze, the gentle vibration of the bus's movement helping her drift off.

_Angel's face appeared out of the darkness, his mouth open in horror as his eyes glowed and soul was restored. When the light faded, his gaze fell upon her filled with love that overcame the confusion as to where they were and why there was a blade, lowered but ready, in Buffy's hand. She found herself once more falling into the dreamy depths of his dark eyes. They swallowed her up and she was floating in the beautiful void that contained only their love, pure and untainted. Then his strained voice reached her through the blissful haze._

_"Buffy"_

Buffy woke up with a start, grateful that her mind had made her wake up when her subconscious was about to relive the most painful part of that memory. Forcing her eyes to stay open she looked out the window. They were still rumbling along the road just out of Sunnydale, she had only slept for a moment. As they travelled on the landscape flew by, the earth baked dry and dusty in the summer heat.

* * *

When the bus jolted to a halt at a vandalized bus-stop, Buffy grabbed her bag and followed the trickle of people getting off the bus. Most were waiting to get off in a more reputable area, where they could ignore the dangers of staying in a major city just as easily as their eyes slid over all indications of Sunnydale's deadly underworld.

The bus driver called out a worried warning as she walked past him to the steps off the bus, encouraging her to get off at a later stop where it was less dangerous for young girls to wander alone. She threw what she hoped was a reassuring smile at the kindly man, but continued her decent off the bus. She didn't want to enter the area she had lived in before being called as a Slayer. Running into any old friends would bring back too many painful memories.

She wandered aimlessly through the streets, her bag bouncing against her leg as she meandered along, shoulders hunched over to protect from the cold emptiness in her soul that couldn't be warmed by the sun beating down on the city. She was startled out of her reflection when a figure pushed against her, only her innate sense of balance stopping her from stumbling.

A man had pushed passed her closer than was necessary, even in the crowded streets and she felt a hand swiftly thrust into her pocket. She turned in horror as she realised what had been taken and searched the street for the thief. Her keen eyesight spotted the man ducking into an alleyway, hiding in the shadows and opening a clenched fist to examine the trinket he had acquired.

In a flash of anger she was upon him. She gripped his wrist and he felt his bones creak as they complained about the pressure being applied to them. He looked up at his attacker, pain and anger clearly written on his features. Before him was the slight girl that had seemed like such an easy target, her eyes lost and painfully unaware of her surroundings as she walked along.

She had transformed, all innocence lost as she snarled at him, her eyes full of anger. There was no fear in her gaze despite his height and robust build making her seem even more childlike in comparison. She was well aware of her superior strength, which the force she was inflicting without any sign of effort on his arm made obvious. He sank to his knees at the pain that streaked through his nervous system as the bones finally broke with a snap that seemed to echo in his ears.

Buffy looked coldly into his eyes then glanced down at his hand. It had clenched into a tight fist around his prize in his body's attempts to cope with the pain. She opened his hand and took back the one thing that she could never bare to lose. Letting go of his wrist, she slipped the silver chain over her head, tucking the heavy gold pendant under her top to hide it from any others who might attempt to take it, comforted as she felt it safe against her skin.

As she adjusted its position she felt another necklace slide against her skin. Pulling it out, she lightly caressed the silver cross in a way that spoke more of love than any religious leanings, and then reached back to undo the clasp. Buffy couldn't bear to have a constant reminder of her lost love.

She was about to shove it into her pocket, switching it's place with the chain now hanging around her neck, when her attention was brought to the man whimpering at her feet as he cradled his arm. She frowned, and took out her purse, placing the cross safely among the loose coins. She looked up guiltily at the thief's pain ridden face and took out some small change. He flinched away from her as she held out her hand to him, greed soon overcame fear and he grabbed the change.

"Call yourself an ambulance." She started out of the alley into the sunlight, then paused and glanced back "Oh, and be careful who's pocket you pick next time" she smirked evilly at the man; his wistful looks at the zipped pocket of the bag in which she had stored her purse and his lack of remorse somewhat alleviating the guilt she felt over the pain she had caused him.

* * *

She stepped out onto the street squinting up at the midday sun, momentarily blinded by the sudden change. When her vision cleared she took in her surroundings. Each side was lined with rundown shops, paint peeling on most signs, the only windows that looked clean were those of the shops from well known chains that were dotted along the street.

Some of the people walking past sent her calculating looks, assessing the difficulty of taking her bag. She slipped it off her shoulder and gripped the handle. It would be hard, if not impossible, for anyone to wrench it out of a slayers grasp.

Across the street she noticed a sign in a grocery store window "Apartment to Rent, enquire within". It wasn't the nicest area, but there was nothing that a slayer couldn't handle, besides, it would be cheap, and she needed to stretch out the time she could spend living off her savings. She crossed the street and, after minimal questions, was taken up to the apartment by the manager.

As he showed her around the compact space, she half listened to his mocking story of the tenant who'd just moved out; yet another kid in search of stardom. The previous girl had left after finally realising that she wasn't going to be spotted working 12 hour shifts at a cheap cafe. The man looked Buffy up and down, leering despite her unflattering clothes, taking her for yet another small-town hopeful.

The apartment was shabby to say the least; paint peeled off the walls in places where the damp had gotten too bad. When tested, the shower groaned for a while then finally spurted out water at the ceiling and walls. The door looked like it had been kicked in at least once; the cracks in the frame obvious to Buffy, despite the paint over them. Two years of slaying in Sunnydale had made her well aware of the effects of breaking a lock. It would take a major clean to before it was habitable, but the price mentioned was reasonable enough, and would leave her enough to live on while she searched for work.

She got out her purse as the manager talked over the rent and charges. When he saw its contents she saw his eyes come alight at the wad of cash. She had taken out all of her savings before leaving Sunnydale so that her mother wouldn't be able to track her through bank statements. He smoothly changed the required upfront rent from one to two months and suddenly mentioned a cleaning deposit.

Buffy looked cynically around the room at that, but knew that there was no point arguing now that he knew how much money she had on her. She should have separated out the cash when she got it, hiding most in pockets of her bag, but at that point she'd been in no state to think straight and had just put it all in her purse. As soon as she agreed to his price, he scurried off to get the paperwork, not wanting to lose a potential tenant who would give him that much in advance.

She looked after him with a bemused expression; he expected her to give up and go home before the rent was used up and leave him with more cash in hand. Buffy wandered through the dingy rooms, noting the things she would have to search for to make it liveable. There was no going back. She had to make this her home.


	2. Whistled Warnings

_**Whistled Warnings**_

Buffy quietly made her way through the streets of LA, hugging her coat around her even in the warm night. Trying to find some protection from the memories that constantly assailed her. All around her, the hustle and bustle of city life continued unobserved by the figure making her way wearily through the dark streets.

She was finding it almost impossible to find even badly paid jobs as a waitress free in the locality of her apartment, and had recently been walking further and further each day in search of work. Her money would hold out for another month on a dull diet of canned foods, but she needed to find work soon.

Passing by a dark alleyway, which ironically was the same one in which she had retrieved her property from the thief, she felt a strong pull on her arm and stumbled, off balance into the alley. Catching herself on a dumpster, she looked around for the cause of her fall, when behind her she felt a familiar presence.

"My, aren't you a pretty little thing?" The vampire looked her up and down hungrily, the lust in his expression not entirely for her blood. Buffy appraised her adversary pityingly, considering the strength and skill of the last vampire she had fought, this one was small fry.

As the guilt and despair that hit each time she let her thoughts slip to her love made her lose her concentration on her foe, he struck; pinning one arm against her side and the other above her head as he forced her into the wall, lowering his head in for the kill. Buffy kneed him in the groin, and then stamped on his foot. Not exactly a move encouraged in slayer training, but the skills from women's self defence classes worked just as well against hungry vamps as they did rapists. Well, they did if you have slayer strength to put behind them anyway.

"Bitch" He hissed through his teeth groaning in pain, and accidentally releasing his hold on her. As he recovered, he lunged at her; determined to make her pay for her attack. "Who do you think you are?"

Buffy didn't even register the question; muttering angrily as she hit the vampire again and again, pushing him back against the wall with her powerful blows.

"I just wanted to be left alone." She hit him on his jaw, snapping his head around, "To leave it behind." Her kick connected with the back of his knee, making him crumple to the ground, "But no, you had to pick _me_ for your meal tonight…"

She paused, finally realising what she had done to her opponent. His face had blood streaming down it and was bruised from the hits that had connected. Blood was seeping out onto his shirt where one of the many ribs she had felt break under her blows had pierced the skin, and the angle of his leg proved that she had completely smashed the knee joint with her kick.

Shuddering at the pain her power had caused once again, she staggered back from the battered form. The desire to kill flowed through her along with the strength that being a slayer provided. She repressed that drive, forcing down the adrenaline and need which had flooded through her body at the first sign of danger, feeding on her anguish to make her lash out. She wasn't the slayer anymore. That had been left behind, her belief in what she had been fighting for as shattered as her heart.

"You'll never do it, you know." She heard the balance demon's voice from behind her, and turned to see Whistler leaning against the wall at the mouth of the alley. He had obviously been there for a while, watching her thrash the vampire that was now a bloody heap of broken bones.

She ignored him and looked back at the vampire making low moans on the floor. Reaching into her pocket; she was momentarily surprised to find it empty before she remembered. She hadn't been going to slay; she hadn't brought a stake with her. She started scanning the alleyway for anything wooden that she could use to put the vampire out of its misery.

Whistler stood and kicked a half destroyed wooden crate towards her. It hit into the vampires destroyed leg causing a loud groan to escape from its mouth. "The slaying; you can't leave it behind." He continued replying to the unvoiced question that hung in the air.

"Watch me." Buffy thrust a slat broken off the crate into the vampire's chest, trying to ignore the sense of rightness, of freedom, of animalistic joy at the defeat of a trespasser in her territory as he crumbled into dust.

She stood slowly, trying to convince the inner slayer that this was enough; she didn't need to hunt…. She shook her head trying to clear her thoughts; not hunt, patrol. Buffy crushed the wishes of the slayer until they could be hidden away in an untidy corner of her mind. She started to move onto the street, past the demon.

"They'll keep on finding you, they can sense you in the same way you can them. They see you and hunger for your blood, your power; even if they don't acknowledge it."

Buffy stared at him for a moment in despair, then her face hardened and she rejected his words. "Just leave me alone."

"You don't understand; there's more to come. You can't stop it. You have to be ready." Whistlers' normally impassive face actually began to look slightly worried as he stepped towards the Slayer, blocking her escape.

Anger flashed across her face "Like you made me ready to send the man I love into hell?" She questioned mockingly "Stay away from me, or I'll make good with my warning."

She thrust out her arm, forcing her anger into the movement, but she had succeeded in her attempts to dampen the slayer power that flowed through her, preventing it from strengthening her blow. It would have been a light blow for a slayer, an open handed slap which might have conveyed her complete emotional exhaustion in its inadequacy.

That is, if it had a chance to impact. She had only meant to perhaps knock him down, giving her a chance to leave. Hopefully at least make the demon be quiet or even go away. That was what her anger fed into, what was in her mind as her arm swung towards his face; make him leave me alone. Before she even made contact, the demon was flying backwards across the street.

Her guilt over Angel's death, the pain she had caused her friends. The anger at whoever had chosen her for this cursed life; the beings that had decided she was worthy of the pain, loneliness and short lifespan that came with being the Slayer. All her anguish had gone behind that one gesture.

Whistler hit into the wall of the building opposite with a resounding thud, narrowly missing the shops windows. Buffy relaxed slightly, not having even noticed her muscles tense as the demon started to fly. No one would come to investigate a bang, but the whole neighbourhood would come a looting if they heard the smash of a shop window being broken into… as well as the shop owner.

The stonework gave way to the force of the blow and crumbled, sending up clouds of dust into the air as Whistler landed on the ground. He stood up and attempted to clean his garish outfit, sending an angry glance Buffy's way when he gave up ridding himself of the dust.

"Do you know how much this costs to dry-clean?" Buffy ignored his irritable question and crossed the street, grabbing him by the throat and pushing him against the dent in the shops wall, counteracting his previous efforts.

"Stay away from me."

Whistler smiled pityingly down at her, his feet handing a few centimetres off the ground as she held him. "It doesn't matter." She dropped him, exasperated at his refusal to stop. "You can't escape it now" he continued as, ignoring the irritating demon, she turned and started walking to her door.

He shouted out after her "It's only a matter of time before they find you." He sighed as the door slammed behind her and continued in a murmur "I just hope she's ready for it."

* * *

Buffy took a deep breath and slowly let it out as she leant her back against the doorway to her unappealing concrete stairwell. Was there going to be no escape from them? Hadn't she done enough; sacrificing herself and her love to keep the world out of hell.

There was always another vampire lurking around the next corner, another apocalypse. It never stopped. She forced herself up the stairs and let herself into the apartment, collapsing fully clothed onto her bed and falling into a blissfully dreamless sleep.


	3. Snap, Crackle & Pop

**_Snap, Crackle & Pop_**

She woke up, bleary eyed in the late afternoon, having slept solidly for the first time in the weeks since she'd left Sunnydale. Dragging herself out of bed, she stripped off her clothes from the night before and looked disgustedly at her hands, still covered with the blood of the vampire from the night before.

Looking closer at the pile of clothes, she saw they were ruined by the splashes of blood ingrained with vampire dust that clung to the fabric. Had she soaked them the previous night, they might have been salvageable, but after a night to set in, nothing was going to get those stains out of her clothes. She really couldn't afford this right now.

She made her way into the shower and, ignoring the slightly murky water, gratefully stepped under the spray, vigorously washing off all the reminders of the previous night. After a thorough wash, she found a new outfit and binned the destroyed garments.

She calmed slightly as the apartment seemed to shift back into the human world, no longer a part of its demon underbelly. Next time she saw Whistler, she promised herself, she'd rip out his vocal chords. Let him try to give cryptic messages then.

Deciding there was no point going job hunting so late in the day, but not wanting to stay in the box-like rooms of her apartment, Buffy elected to go to the park. Making her way down the main street, she was distracted by occasional 'pops' and 'cracks' that seemed to come from side streets as she approached them, but when she looked down them there was never anyone suspicious. Well… more suspicious than the normal inhabitants of her neighbourhood anyway. It was either Whistler following her or her mind playing tricks, either way, she opted to ignore the sounds and enjoy her day.

As she entered the wide open space of the park, the sounds stopped; her tracker must have been deterred by the risk of discovery. Buffy lay on the soft grass in the sunlight; enjoying the feeling of the warm sunbeams on her skin as she watched the city dwellers hurry past.

* * *

Hours later with the slim moon hanging over her head, the sole occupant of the park lay in a peaceful slumber. From the shadows of the trees surrounding the park, faint 'pops' could be heard, followed by the rustle of grass as shrouded figures moved in around the girl. They stopped with a start as she started writhing in her sleep, worried that she had heard their approach, then moved ever closer as they realised they were still undiscovered. A light drizzle started to fall.

"Are you sure?" one queried, glancing at one of his associates.

"She's definitely the one." Another reassured his partner, then turned and muttered under his breath. A faint blue glow could be seen from behind, and then he turned back to his companions. "It's ready." He stated.

Carefully lifting Buffy's hand, he held it in his and motioned for the others. They also held out their hands, so that all five occupants of the park were clasping hands over Buffy's unconscious form.

The one gripping Buffy's hand, apparently the leader, looked at a watch on his other wrist and started a whispered count down. "Five… four… three…"

Buffy suddenly shot up "Angel" she whispered hopelessly into the night, still reliving the moment in which she had lost him forever.

She noticed the dark figures surrounding her a second too late to pull away. She felt a jerk in her stomach and the whole group disappeared, leaving the dry and flattened grass where she had slept the only indication that there had been anyone there moments before. Within a minute, even this had gone as the drizzle grew to a heavy rain, soaking the grass.

* * *

_Thank you to all my reviewers; Anon, __TheStatue, Shabopo, manticore-gurl.  
_


	4. Mystification & Mayhem

_manticore-gurl thank you for reviewing  
_

**_Mystification & Mayhem_**

The world stopped spinning around the robed group and they landed with a jolt on a hard surface. Buffy didn't bother to assess her surroundings, using the moment of slight confusion to pull away from the imposing figures that surrounded her. She looked warily around, trying to find a way out that didn't involve the strange form of magic that her captors had used.

They were in a small room with a simple wooden bed in a corner and a partitioned off section that, from the sound of dripping water, contained a sink. All in all it was a relatively comfortable space that could be anywhere. The only change that seemed to have been made in order to contain her was that the doorknob had been removed. She was amazed that they took the trouble seeing as the door was a wooden affair, something a slayer could break down in a moment. They couldn't know much about her kind if they thought they could hold her in this room.

Buffy started towards the door. She was raising her leg to kick the lock out when a voice sounded from behind her. "Stop right there" Buffy paused and raised her hands in mock compliance, turning to see how her abductors felt they could threaten her.

The four figures were stood in a line with their arms raised, pointing at her with sticks. They seemed to believe this would impose some kind of fear. She turned back to the door and, hearing a couple of them mutter something behind her, managed to duck in time feeling a strange force pass over her head and crash into the door, making it shudder and groan while something else hit her mid-thigh leaving an odd tingling sensation.

Instinctively she rolled sideways avoiding another blast and threw out her leg as she got to her feet, knocking one of the sticks, from which these attacks came, from the hand of an adversary. Settling into a fighting stance, she warily eyed her three remaining opponents. She stood on the centre of the room with her back to the door and a robed figure each side as well as in front.

The disarmed figure was against the wall cradling his wrist. As the man to her right spoke an incantation she rolled and grabbed the throat of the figure in front of her, surprised when the startled yelp revealed that there was a woman under the unappealing clothes. The man's curse passed behind her and hit the other of his colleagues, making him crumple to the floor. Unfortunately the now unconscious man had managed to get a spell off before he was immobilized and something hit her left shoulder blade sending a wave of numbness across her back. Before the last one standing could redirect another curse her way, Buffy moved herself into the corner with the woman pulled protectively against her chest.

"What do you want from me?" she looked up at the man standing in front of her, his wand now lowered, but ready to strike if she attempted to leave. To her surprise it was the man against the wall that answered, his voice strained as he endured the pain from where she had kicked his hand, from the angle it was at, despite him supporting it, Buffy could tell she had broken his wrist.

"We were sent to detain you on behalf of the Federal Bureau of Magical Affairs, you are to be charged, in accordance with Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, for performing magic in the sight of Muggles. Your unregistered and untrained magic use will obviously be a taken into account when deciding the severity of the punishment."

"Huh?" That was the last thing she had expected; satanic rituals, demon worship, those she could deal with, but her doing magic? These people were insane.

"and now, additionally for assaulting members of the Bureau" The man still standing to the right of her sneered, obviously put out by the fact that this slight figure had somehow bested him and his team.

"But I can't do any magic… I've never…" Buffy's captive used her lack of concentration to escape her grasp, and she saw the man's wand point at her a second too late to avoid the blast of red light.

This third hit caught her in the chest and seemed to have a stronger effect than those before. Her vision went cloudy and her legs felt weak, that same numbing feeling spreading not just around the hit but all through her body. She shook her head trying to clear it of the drowsiness that had suddenly overtaken her. She dimly heard people talking, the words echoed through her head, muffled by whatever was affecting her senses.

"She's still awake" she could hear the amazement in the woman's tone even through the haze.

"Hit her again" that was the man, his voice gleeful at the idea of causing this girl harm. She saw the shadow that must be the woman move to stop him.

"If you hit her again it could slow her heart enough to kill her." Buffy tried to make her body respond to her and prevent them from using their wands.

"She shouldn't have been able to stay awake after so many hits."

"I know" the woman murmured, her amazement obvious in her tone. "I guess one more can't hurt"

Buffy saw the woman raise her arm in slow motion, trying to force her mind to think through the haze and defend itself. "Stoo-puh-fye" she heard the word like an echo through a long tunnel; distorted and muted. Another blast of red light came towards her out of the wand and hit her in the chest.


	5. Crime & Punishment

_**A/N**- timelines. I haven't changed the chronology of the events in either world (ie. buffy is still 15 when called, 17 when Angel goes to hell) but I have moved the BtVS timeline in its entirety back a few years. There's a date in this chapter that's entirely wrong if you dont take this into account. From this (if you're bored enough) you could figure out where we're up to in the HP timeline, but I wont be saying until it becomes relevant._

_Thank you to all who reviewed; Violet Star, pamie, Xelab, Allen Pitt, Shabopo._

_**Crime & Punishment**_

Buffy woke up seated in a chair in the centre of a room that resembled a courtroom. She tried to move her arm, but found that she had been chained to the chair and was unable to lift it more than a foot.

The chains didn't look very sturdy, but she could see two of her captors standing either side of her with raised wands; ready for any sign of an attempt to escape. She thought back to the fight in the cell, and realised that these people may not even know that she was the slayer; they had been too surprised at her strength and ability to fight to have known what she was.

In front of her was a raised platform, with a group of twelve distinguished looking men and women dressed in robes similar to those worn by her captors, these however were a deep maroon and made of a far superior fabric. They looked down at her intensely from behind a solid wood table.

"Has the defendant been made aware of the charges?"

The leader of her captors stepped forward. Buffy was surprised to see no cast on his wrist, she was sure had been broken, she had felt the bone crack. He faced the speaker and replied formally "She has."

"Very well, you have been accused of performing magic in a manner which could cause it to be noticed by the non-magical community, better known as Muggles. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, listen I…" She was interrupted by the man who had hit her with the first spell.

"The prosecution wishes to question the defendant."

The judges seemed slightly shocked by the interruption, but allowed him to continue with a nod.

"Were you or were you not in LA on the night of the 1st of July?"

"Yes but…"

"And did you not, at 2am on the aforementioned night, perform a banishing charm on a Muggle?"

"No, I…"

"Sending said Muggle flying across the street, damaging a wall upon impact"

"Well…"

"Did you receive an invitation to attend Salem Witches' Institute on July 25th 1989?"

"What?" Buffy, already confused by the quickly fired questions, was baffled by the sudden change in the line of questioning.

"And, upon refusing said invitation, did you receive a letter stating that it is illegal under the Registration and Control of Magic Users Act to cast or attempt to cast spells without proper training?"

"Spells…?"

"That any magic performed, intentional or otherwise, would lead to…"

"Greenwood" Buffy was startled from her dazed disbelief by the bark from the platform "Would you please allow the child to answer some of the questions? We do not appreciate you badgering the defendant."

"I apologise, sir" Greenwood flushed in embarrassment at the reprimand from the man whose central position indicated his importance even amongst those seated. He made as if to turn back to Buffy, but was pre-empted by one of the judges, a portly lady on the left who seemed to pity the position Buffy was in.

"That's enough Greenwood, we will conduct the questioning." He flashed an angry glare at the woman before forcing himself to swallow his rage, and stiffly taking back his position guarding the chair.

"Now dear, what do you have to say about all this?" Buffy felt the combined gaze of the dozen robed figures on her and suddenly felt very awkward.

"Well… um, I don't know anything about the witches' place… and I never heard about any laws, but I know I've never done any magic… I'm not a witch" Buffy trailed off, unsure of what to say. The kindly lady smiled reassuringly at her and turned to the others at the raised table.

"Do we have a record of her refusal to attend Salem?" One of the others, a younger man with long black hair pulled into a ponytail behind his elegant neck, started rustling through a sheaf of papers, handing a page along the table when he found what was asked for.

The woman glanced over the sheet and nodded thoughtfully "As I suspected; it was her mother that refused the invitation. No doubt taking it as a joke, like so many Muggles used to. This is the very reason I advocated sending an envoy to introduce our world to Muggle-born witches." A couple of the others muttered at this, apparently there had been much debate over introducing the system she mentioned.

The wizened, grey-haired gentleman, who seemed to be running this court, or whatever these strange people called it, looked thoughtfully at Buffy.

"You are a witch child. We have ways of detecting the power, and you are most definitely not a Muggle"

"Sorry… erm… sir, but what's a Muggle?"

"Muggles are people who cannot do magic and, for the most part, do not know that magic exists. Our society exists alongside theirs, but they know nothing about it, which is why it is a crime to perform magic in front of Muggles; we cannot allow them to find out about us."

"Ok…" Buffy looked around the room worriedly "But I can go now, right? I won't do any more magic"

"Unfortunately we cannot run the risk of your power being released again in the presence of Muggles. Our observations of your magic have shown it to be unstable, making future incidents of unintentional magic probable. Once this connection to magic is made, use of it again becomes a more likely occurrence. " His steely grey eyes fixed on her, trying to impart upon her the importance of what he was saying "While some with the potential for magic never use their ability, and live as Muggles, bottling it up like this can also cause it to be uncontrollably, even violently, released without warning. You will have to be trained to control your magic to prevent further accidents." Buffy started when he lifted a hammer and hit the table with it "I suggest we drop all charges, with the prerequisite that she must attend Salem Institute to learn what is necessary, starting this fall. Cast your votes."

At a wave of their wands, a glowing orb of green light appeared above the head of each of the twelve figures. "It is unanimous, release the chains."

She felt the chains drop off her and sighed in relief at being free.

"Term starts on September 1st. A wizard will escort you to collect your supplies. You will have to stay in our supervision until it is time to attend the school."

Buffy was about to protest when she remembered; they didn't know she was the slayer. This was it. The new start she had been trying to find. The world would be someone else's problem; the slayer that replaced Kendra could deal with it.

By rights her time as a slayer ended when she died, she argued trying to convince herself to abandon her destiny. It was her replacement's turn. Buffy let herself be led off by the pair of wizards that had captured her, not noticing a silhouette on the top row of the seats that were lined up in tiers above the door for people to observe the trials. From the shadows, Whistler watched the petite slayer leave.


	6. Castles of Snow

_Thank you to all who reviewed, here comes the roll of honour: texaswookie, Allen Pitt, zayra, Goddessa._

_**Castles of Snow**_

They emerged out of the courtroom into a long corridor, and she was escorted to a room three doors down on the right. Upon entering, she found a small sitting room with an impressive log fireplace surrounded by comfortable looking leather armchairs. Wooden panelling on the walls added a decidedly Victorian feel to the room, as did the many candles which were the only source of light.

"If you just wait here, I'll fetch someone to escort you." The less kind of the two guards remained as the other quietly closed the door behind him. Openly leering at Buffy, he dared her to call him on it. Choosing to ignore him completely, she curled herself up in one of the chairs and stared into the flames.

After a short wait, the door was opened by a young man who looked barely older than Buffy, with a youthful face and floppy brown hair. "I'll take it from here, Greenwood"

"Are you sure Edgeware? She's a slippery little thing" Greenwood sneered at the man, trying to intimidate him.

"I'm sure I can handle it" he replied stiffly. There was no love lost between the pair, both stiffly avoiding any contact or familiarity with one another.

When Greenwood's footsteps had finally become inaudible, the man sighed with relief and threw himself into one of the armchairs, looking even more boyish in the process. "Hi, I'm Neil. Neil Edgeware" he grinned expectantly at Buffy.

"Buffy" she murmured a reply. He looked at her for a moment, expecting more, but then jumped to his feet with a childish enthusiasm "Well, I'm supposed to be showing you around, so why don't we go?" Buffy silently rose to her feet, the effects of the past few days added to the events of the previous months overwhelming her too much.

They made their way down the corridor and then down a flight of stairs, twisting and turning down through the building until they finally came out onto a massive landing with two stairways curving along the walls down towards the floor of an enormous hall. It was made of solid rock, a cave that had been refined to form a gigantic room.

Pillars stood dotted randomly around where there had been natural formations of stalagmites and stalactites; the join between stonework and nature was impeccable where they had been extended to form complete columns. The floor was intricately inlaid with black and white marble in a pattern which drew the eye to the centre of the room, where there stood a sculpture of a stag.

It was unbelievable that his impressive antlers could be supported by the elegant neck, especially considering the entire monument was made of ice. This place, more than anything else, confirmed the existence of a magical world. As they descended the stairs, Buffy realised that her perception of the size of the sculpture had been distorted by the huge space around him; stag stood at least ten foot tall.

"Beautiful isn't he? This is the main entrance hall to the FBM headquarters." His voice suddenly changed its tone to that of a historical guide as he talked about the room "The Bureau moved here, along with the Salem Witches' Institute when it became clear that the townsfolk wouldn't accept us, The stag was carved in 1700 to commemorate the completion of the new home of American Wizardry and was charmed to always stay frozen." He smiled smugly at his rendition of the history.

"There's a school here?"

He looked at her surprised. "You haven't been outside yet?" His eyes lit up at the idea of being the first to show her this world as she shook her head "You're in for a treat." Neil led her out through the imposing doors of the Bureau, to see the most amazing sight of her life.

If she had thought the cavernous entrance of the Bureau was large, her whole sense of scale was redefined by the sight before her eyes. It was a gigantic ledge in the mountains, big enough for a small city to nestle on with room to spare. They had come out of the heart of the mountain, and behind them sheer cliffs towered upwards, pocketed occasionally with windows and balconies of the rooms hidden inside.

In front, where there should have been view out, there was a wall of ice; completely concealing this world in its own personal eco-bubble. The midday sunlight filtered through the sheet of ice to light the magical world around her.

As well as the rooms in the mountainside, there were streets of houses and shops along just in front of the Bureau and far to the left, behind a dark forest which stretched the breadth of the shelf, separating it from the rest of the buildings, was a structure both carved into and built out of the rock of the mountain. It looked like a cross between castle Dracula and sleeping beauty's palace, somehow keeping its beauty and elegance despite the black porous rock that had been used to create it.

Neil followed her gaze "That's Salem. You'll be going there in September?" Buffy nodded, still speechless at the beauty of the view before her. He watched her for a moment, enjoying the affect that his home had on first time visitors, then with a start remembered that he had a job to do and started dragging her off down the steep hill that led down from the Bureau towards the shops.

"Well first things first; you'll need money." He led her off down the street past more people wearing the odd robes which seemed to be the norm in this society, and shops whose signs indicated they sold caldrons and spell books, talking along the way about the wizarding world.

"You have American Dollars right?" Buffy nodded again, glad that Neil hadn't tried to force her into a more two sided conversation. "We'll have to go to Gringotts. The American Banks are all run by old wizarding families and don't exchange Muggle currency." Buffy shrugged, not bothering to try and understand the relevance of what the man was telling her. She was too overwhelmed from just being in this enchanting place.

They made their way up to a small, but impressive doorway guarded by a small figure dressed in a red and gold uniform. Buffy stared at the strange creature; it looked back haughtily muttering "mudblood" under its breath in a tone that made it clear the term was insulting. Her guide didn't notice the comment, but murmured an explanation of the creature to her as they passed through the brass doorway.

"Goblins… they run the bank."

A second set of doors, this time guarded by a pair of uniformed goblins, opened onto a long room which seemed to be made entirely of marble. Along one side was a counter that stretched the entire length of the room, behind which sat half a dozen goblins, all engrossed in the continuous running of the bank.

The other wall had three intricately carved fireplaces, each containing a blazing fire. The central Fireplace was larger than the others, standing as high as any doorway and at least twice as wide, with a word in golden lettering along the mantle. As Buffy attempted to make out what was written, the fire suddenly roared to life; its flames changing to a brilliant green. The shadow of a figure appeared within the fire, gradually solidifying until a man stepped out of the flames which returned to normal with a soft woosh.

"International Floo Network" He explained as he followed her gaze, then his eyes widened in recognition and he rushed to greet the man that had just arrived with a muttered "excuse me."

"What services will you require?" Buffy's attention was drawn away from the fires by the politely enquiring face of a Gringotts goblin.

"Oh…" Buffy glanced across the hall to the pair of men now animatedly discussing… some kind of sport. It seemed likely, them being male and all, although the terms they were referring to meant nothing to her. "He said I needed to exchange some money…" The goblin continued to look up at her with an impassive expression. She dug into her pockets and pulled out the remainders of her cash, glad that the lack of security had made her decide against storing any in her apartment.

"Ah, you wish to exchange Muggle currency. You wouldn't prefer to withdraw money on credit from your vault?"

"_Vault?_" she heard the voice of her escort echo the word with her.

The goblin looked at them both in confusion "On the chain around your neck, is that not the key to your vault?"

Neil, who had come back and just caught what had been said, looked incredulously at the goblin, but after noting his blandly serious expression he too turned to examine the key. Buffy lifted the chain over her head in a daze and handed it to the goblin. "Ahh, yes. This is definitely one of ours. And you're name?"

"Buffy Summers." The goblin frowned and looked at the key more intently, muttering something over it that made the metal shimmer silver for a moment before returning to its normal golden tones.

"Hmmm…" he muttered thoughtfully to himself then looked up to Buffy "I'll have to check our records. Would you come over to the counter?"

The goblin lifted a partition to go to the other side of the desk and busied himself, taking out a quill and starting to make notes on a complicated looking form. Without looking up he started barking questions at Buffy who, stunned, replied to his questioning.

"Parents Names?"

"Joyce and Hank Summers"

"Date of Birth?"

"January 19th 1978"

"Place of Birth?"

"Err… London"

"Which State?"

"No… London, England"


	7. American Girl

_Wow, 10 reviews! thanks to Allen Pitt, manticore-gurl, Godessa, feyechelon, Lauren, Becky, fan, CharmedChick, mari, wolfg07._

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* * *

  
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"_Place of Birth?"_

"_Err… London"_

"_Which State?"_

"_No… London, England"_

_**American Girl**_

Neil pulled her around to face him. "England? You're not American?"

Buffy frowned; insulted by the implication. "I was adopted, I grew up here. I'm an all-American girl!"

"Adopted! Your adoptive parents are Muggles right? Non-magical?" He was beginning to look worried.

"Oh yeah… my parents and magic are like… " she paused, trying to quell the memory of her mother's reaction to finding out that Buffy was a slayer "two non-mixy things." Buffy concluded quickly, not understanding the problem he was having with the fact that she was adopted.

Neil worriedly looked around for someone to help before realising that they weren't at the Bureau, obviously knowing that there was something wrong, but was unequipped to deal with it without a superior. He turned to the goblin. "Do you have any owls here?"

"Certainly sir" He shouted an order in a strange language to a small goblin, who rushed off through a set of double doors labelled 'External Post' "I assume the lady will not be withdrawing funds today?"

"No, sorry… no time" He was frantically looking at his watch, ignoring the large clock face behind the counter. It was quickly approaching 1 pm. Buffy realised for the first time that she must have missed a whole night while unconscious. The small goblin returned with a large barn owl perched on his shoulder.

Neil leaned across the counter and snatched a piece of parchment from in front of the astonished goblin, who quickly handed over his quill before its feathers were ruined by it also being grabbed out of his hand. He scribbled something on the parchment and gave it to the owl, muttering instructions in its ear before throwing it into the air. The owl squawked, affronted by Neil's treatment, and in retaliation dive-bombed him on its way out the door.

Neil grabbed Buffy's hand and dragged her out of the door. Buffy followed bemusedly as he rushed her back to the entrance of the Bureau. Soon he was pulling her along the many corridors and stairwells of the Bureau itself, until they jolted to a stop outside a door, labelled in fine gold lettering 'Darren Parkin, Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, High Magus of Justice, Director of Department of International Magical Cooperation'. With a quick knock, Neil barged into the room and breathlessly asked "Did you get my letter?"

Behind a large desk, sitting in a narrow high backed chair that served to exaggerate his thin build was a man who could only be Darren Parkin. Buffy recognised him as one of the judges at her Trial, the younger one who had seemed slightly cowed by the company he was keeping. Now, in his own office, he was in his element. With a closer look, the discrete signs of age, whether from mature years or overwork, were more obvious than they had been at the hearing.

It was there in the occasional streak of grey in his black hair, the faint lines on his face and, most of all, the intense wisdom that could be seen in his dark ageless eyes that reminded Buffy so much of her lost love. He assessed her with such an intensity that she felt as if he could see straight through her and expose her deepest darkest secrets for all to see.

"Yes." He answered Neil without taking his steady gaze off Buffy "Do you know why this is important?"

"N…" Buffy cleared her throat, still drawn in by his mesmerising eyes "No, Sir" she forced her gaze away and started to examine the geometric patterns in his plush green carpet with great interest.

"Why don't you take a seat, Miss Summers? Edgeware, would you fetch us some drinks?" Buffy looked around in confusion until she remembered that Neil's surname was Edgeware "Tea? Coffee?"

"Um… tea would be fine, thanks" after spending a great deal of the past two years in the company of Giles, a few of his habits had started to rub off on her, much to the enjoyment of Xander when he caught her drinking tea.

When Neil left them, the imposing man smiled reassuringly at her. "We haven't been properly introduced, Darren Parkin." He stretched his arm over the table. Buffy looked at it for a second, then started and grasped his hand "Buffy Summers"

"I'm sorry that you had to rush to get here, but Neil was quite right in thinking this couldn't wait until Monday. I was told you were born in England?"

"Yeah" Buffy once again replied.

"And you were adopted?" His soothing voice calmed her of the worries she had been having on the run to get here.

"Uh, yeah. When I was a baby."

"And your parents are both Muggles?"

"Yes." Neil returned with the tea. After he served it out, he stood unobtrusively in the corner, hoping for a chance to stay and help the mysterious girl whose sadness was palpable.

"That will be all, Edgeware." Buffy was surprised to see Neil scowl at the chair, but when he was admonished with a sharp "Neil" from his superior, he reluctantly left the room. "My nephew." Mr Parkin explained "He doesn't always like it that I give him no advantages for being a relation."

Buffy finally started to relax as she realised that she wasn't in any trouble. This man wouldn't be complaining to her about his nephew if he was angry at her.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know why I'm here." She gulped down some of her tea, anything to avoid looking at the man before her.

"Ah… yes, well, that is due to an unfortunate combination of some Internal an International Laws which, I am sorry to say, I have been unable to change." He shook his head, obviously chastising himself for an inability on his part. "Immigration laws require that a Wizard or Witch get special permission to change their nationality, or even enter another country. Muggle adoption or marriage to a Muggle isn't enough; you have to petition your case to the relevant nation at the International Confederation of Wizards."

Buffy frowned, trying to grasp what the wizard was trying to tell her "So… you're saying I'm not American, 'cause I was born in England."

He smiled pityingly at her "Unless you can prove both your biological parents are American?" he looked almost hopeful that she would have a gem of information that would fix the whole problem.

Buffy shook her head and bitterly replied "We don't even know who they are." She paused and looked at him warily, wondering if she should tell him more about her adoption "I'm a foundling."

He looked at her. Confusion wasn't an expression that suited him well. "If I might ask, how did a British foundling get adopted by American parents?"

"'Cause I wasn't found in England, I was found in L.A." She smiled to herself cynically. "And the next question coming is how do I know I'm English right?" She looked up with her eyes filled with the wariness of a trapped animal; he nodded slightly, not wanting to scare her into silence. "They left me on the steps of an orphanage in L.A, with a British birth certificate and this" she pulled the key out of her pocket and put it on the table.

"I take it their names were not on the birth certificate?" Buffy snorted

"And get busted for abandoning a kid? Of course not. Just my time and date of birth, and my name" she suddenly realised that she had been absentmindedly caressing the key in her hand, and closed her fist on it; the whiteness of her knuckles showed the force with which she had tightened her grip, though any pain from the metal digging into her hand was invisible from her now impassive face.

"So what happens now? I go to this confedy-thingy?"

He cleared his throat, moved by the emotion portrayed in Buffy's voice during the tale "Yes, but, you cannot legally stay in this country without permission. Under normal circumstances, had you been properly trained to use your magic, this would likely not have been a problem; your acceptance would have been a matter of paperwork and you would have been allowed to stay while it was completed. Sadly, as an untrained witch, this is not the case, and it is highly unlikely that you will be granted acceptance back in." He paused, casting a sympathetic look at her.

"Your ability to cast powerful spells without training has marked you as a dangerous person. Magic as strong and unstable as yours can become quite dangerous when left unchecked, for both you and those around you. Because of this it would be impossible to gain permission for you to stay here whilst you learn control; the danger you could pose is more than reasonable justification for refusal."

"But you're on the Confederation… can't you…"

"The Senior Mugwumps would not agree to let you stay." He shrugged, unable to put his understanding into words "You have, through no fault of your own, become a problem which the Federal Bureau of Magical Affairs would be happy to extradite to the country of your birth."

"Why does it matter? If they hadn't found the birth certificate, everyone would've thought I was American anyway." Buffy began to get worried; she was already being forced into a new world, now she had to go to a whole different country too. The land of tweed and librarians no less.

"I'm sorry." He truly did look saddened by her predicament "We have a connection to the Muggle telephone lines in the Bureau, would you like to call your parents? Unfortunately, since under wizarding law they are not recognised as your family, you could not tell them about us. It is illegal to inform any Muggles about magic unless they are related to a witch or wizard. But you could…"

"I understand." She interrupted.

Buffy felt a surge of love and gratitude towards her adoptive mother left over as ever from thoughts of how, while her biological parents had abandoned her, Joyce Summers had seen Buffy as a baby and immediately stated that this was the child they wanted to raise as their own.

But then the memories of how she had left the house filtered back. Joyce had dealt with enough heartache and pain from choosing Buffy.

_"Don't even think about coming back"_

A wave of hurt overwhelmed her as the feelings of rejection caused by those words returned. A clean break would be better, Buffy thought, uncertain if she was protecting herself from another potential rejection or her adoptive mother from finding out that her daughter was going to be deported. She shook her head firmly, shaking out the memories, and looked at Mr Parkin with tears in her eyes.

"When will I be going?"

"As soon as possible. Do you have any belongings you'd like to collect?"

Buffy thought back to the holdall of battle stained clothes and weapons in her small apartment.

"No. I've got nothing left."

_Nothing left to lose_... On the night she had left her house with warnings not to return echoing in her head, she thought she'd already lost everything that mattered. Now after killing her love just when he was returned to her and leaving her friends, family, every part of the world she had known behind, she was about to make the final step to truly start a new life.

Buffy stood; a new resolve in her face "Let's go."

_**A/N** - so what do you think? has the adoption thing been done too many times already? Is it any more believable this way? sorry anyone who was expecting more originality, but the whole reason I started this story was because I wanted to try out my version of the 'adopted buffy' story... _


	8. Facing the Fire

Thank you for all the reviews, here's the honor call: _chicklepea, Locathah, pamie, Shabopo, Allen Pitt, Theory, Goddessa, Stemaphie, Rosie, Area, LittleDrusilla, CharmingStar, mari._

_**Facing the Fire**_

Despite her eagerness to get this over with and be on her way to England, at 2pm Buffy was sitting back in the Lounge she had waited in after her trial. She had been served lunch by a small creature with large eyes and ears that seemed to have been dressed in a tea towel. The creature's eagerness to please and bring her anything she could think of convinced her of Neil's ulterior motives when bringing the tea to her and his Uncle. The House-Elf that no doubt made the tea would have been more than happy to bring it to them.

When she finally heard a knock on the door she jumped up, and was surprised to find Neil coming through it. "They finally got you all sorted out. Apparently, someone unwittingly being a magical alien creates a hella lot of paperwork" he waved a wad of paper at her "Uncle didn't enjoy having to put up with a load of grumpy wizards complaining about work on a Saturday, I can tell you. Half of them wanted to deport you as an illegal entry just to get out of here quicker."

He noticed a worried look cross her face "Don't worry, you're all legal. So once you've trained enough to satisfy the Department of Magical Immigration and Customs you should be able to come back, Uncle Darren's promised to support your application. And…" he paused for effect "I got myself the job of taking you to London." She couldn't help but return his grin "I've wanted to visit Diagon Alley for a while now." Neil held open the door for her to leave and led her along the maze of identical corridors that seemed to make up the Bureau.

They turned many corners and went down a few staircases, before coming out of a small doorway, which seemed to blend back into the wall as soon as it closed, into a room that, like the main entrance hall, was made of the stone of the mountain. It was a long corridor that, like the bank, had a row of fireplaces, this time more than a dozen on each side of the room with three of the larger ones that Neil had named as part of the International Floo Network, one in the centre of the right hand wall and the others at each end of the room. On the left hand wall was a large archway, through which could be seen the ice sculpture in the centre of the entrance hall.

"There probably won't be anyone there – it's getting on for 10pm in London, but we'd better visit the Ministry before finding rooms at the Leaky Caldron, even if it's just to tell the night guard we're here. Those Brits get annoyed if you don't follow protocol." He smiled at Buffy, then it suddenly seemed to dawn on him that she was technically British. "uh… sorry."

"It's okay, I think of myself as an American anyway." She reassured him "So how does this fire thing work anyway?"

Neil brightened immediately and started rambling on about charming spells on fireplaces and dried potions to start the magic. After five minutes spent getting more and more confused Buffy interrupted "So you're saying I sprinkle some powder on the fire and say where I wanna go, and I magically get there" Neil blushed

"um, yeah. Sorry, I work with the Floo Network Authority. Write it off as loving my job?"

"Of course. I'll totally forgive your slip into geekdom." Neil smiled in relief and handed her a pinch of Floo Powder. "Just remember to say the city and country too: 'Ministry of Magic, London, England' nice and clearly. There aren't many exits on the International Network for obvious reasons, since most countries control the arrival and departure of witches and wizards, but there's still potential to leave through the wrong fireplace."

"Oh and you'll need this" he handed her a small disk with a Union Jack etched upon it "It's a visa – it tells the fireplace you're allowed to leave the country and which countries you're permitted entry to."

Buffy took the token and threw the powder into the flames, turning them a brilliant green. She stepped in, announcing her destination, and felt the flames tickle against her exposed skin as she was sucked into the fire. A tingle of magic caressed the disk in her hand, and then broke it apart within her grasp; its remains joining the smoke of the flames. Around her she saw whirls of green flame and fleeting glimpses of fireplaces streaking by until she had to shut her eyes to settle the sickness in her stomach, waiting until she felt the world around her stop spinning to open them again.

* * *

She arrived to find that, instead of the quiet, empty place that Neil's words made her expect, the room was full of both hustle and bustle, with many witches and wizards rushing back and forth. She heard a woosh slightly louder than the others around her that heralded the arrival of her companion.

He gasped as he saw the commotion in the hall. "Wait a second, I'll find out what's going on." While he rushed off to speak to the security desk, she took the time to look around the hall they had landed in.

The dark floor was polished until it gleamed, in spite of the many people walking over it; it reflected the blue ceiling which was inlaid with streaks of gold that seemed to be constantly changing. The walls on each side housed lots of fireplaces similar to the one that she had emerged from. Opposite her there were queues of people lined up to use the fireplace whilst behind her, more wizards were constantly emerging from the fires.

She was startled by a pop as a witch suddenly appeared at her side, before realising that all over the hall, people were appearing in a similar manner, or disappearing with a crack. In the centre of the long hallway was a gold fountain with statues of a group of people and creatures all smiling as water sprinkled over their heads.

Neil came back looking very worried "I'm sorry Buffy, but I have to go" he looked at her anxiously "They're just sending someone down to collect you. You will be okay on your own won't you?"

Buffy smiled confidently back at him "I'm sure I'll be fine. What's wrong anyway?"

Neil gaped a few times, trying to work out how to put it to someone who didn't know their world. "There was this power hungry wizard, who terrorised Britain and parts of Europe for a decade. We all thought he was dead, but now there are rumours that he's back, but the British Minister of Magic's been keeping it quiet from the rest of the world. I have to tell Darren."

As Buffy listened to his tale, her hopes of a new life began to drop. Was this the fight that Whistler was trying to get her involved with?

"Hey there he is." Buffy was pulled, both out of her thoughts and across the hall, as Neil sighted the new person that was to take over minding her. Standing at the security booth was a tall thin man, whose bulky robes hung awkwardly off his angular figure. His shockingly red hair luckily distracted attention somewhat from the ghastly horn rimmed spectacles perched on his nose and contrasted with skin so pale it had to be caused by more than just natural inclination; any regular sunlight would have added tone to his pallor.

As he greeted Neil and was brought up to date on her status, Buffy continued her speculation about the irony of her entering this world, just as they had a baddie to fight.

"Do leprechauns exist?" Both men were startled by the question.

"Of course. They're the Irish National Quidditch Team's mascots." replied the redhead before continuing his discussion with Neil. Buffy immediately cheered up. If leprechauns exist, then maybe this was all a coincidence. She forced down the whisperings from the back of her mind that told her there was no such thing, that she had been warned something was coming.

"Buffy, I've got to go." Buffy was surprised at how sad she was to see Neil go, considering she'd only known him for one afternoon.

"Bye then."

"I'll write to you, if that's okay?" he blushed a deep red. Buffy didn't want to lead him on, but he was the only link, however tenuous to her home, and she couldn't say no.

He grinned and rushed off across the room before she could change her mind. Left alone with the redhead who was now sorting through the large sheaf of papers that documented her return to the country, she turned to introduce herself.

"Buffy Summers." she stretched out her hand.

"Oh, uh" the man seemed to suddenly notice that she was still there, and managed to drop the papers in an attempt to shake her hand while still reading them. When the papers were collected back together and safely stored in his battered briefcase, he shook her hand "Percy Weasley, Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic"

He looked her over and spoke to the security guard, getting a silver badge with her name on that she fixed to her top. He led her over to a smaller hall with a score of lifts behind golden grills. They boarded one that was slowly filling with robed men and women.

"We'll go straight to the Minister. He's got a slot free at the moment."

The grills closed with a crash, and the lift started upwards, chains clattering. On each floor a female voice announced the department, and wizards got off and on, along with some paper aeroplanes that flapped out of reach as they waited for the lift to get to their floor.

"inter-departmental memos" her guide explained as one swooped out of the lift on 'Level Three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes' They had started at level eight and were now the only two left in the lift which, after one more pause on level two, jolted to a stop on 'Level One' for this there was no announcement, no doubt anyone coming to this floor would know exactly where they were.

She was led along the hall to some large wooden double doors with 'Minister's Office' engraved upon them. Percy knocked discretely and waited for a muffled "What is it?" barked angrily from inside, before leading Buffy into an ornate office that might rival the oval office in both size and luxury. The room gave a presence to the figure on the chair which he wouldn't have possessed outside it.

He was a portly man with rumpled grey hair and bemused indifference in his expression. Buffy stood back as he listened absently to Percy's abridged assessment of her situation, trying not to cringe when he languidly looked her up and down.

When Percy had finished, he looked at Buffy for a while with an expression of deep contemplation "What shall we do with you then?" he mused out loud.

Fully knowing that it had been intended as a rhetorical question, but not liking the idea of doing anything that might come into this man's head, Buffy chipped in. "Well Sir, the Bureau planned on sending me to Salem Institute."

He took this in and continued nodding thoughtfully. Slowly, a grin crossed his face as a thought entered his head.

"Yes" he muttered gleefully to himself "That'll keep the old do-gooder out of my way." He looked up at Percy

"I agree with the Bureau" he smiled, happy with himself "She should go to school. Weasley, write up the paperwork immediately and take her to him tonight. Tell him" his smile, impossibly, broadened "Tell him I want her to be taking her OWLs next summer. And she had better pass, with flying colours, or we might need to discuss if he's still suitable for his position."

He looked at Buffy, and she realised that, to him, she was no longer an annoying disturbance, or even a pretty young girl, she was a pawn in his game of power; something he could use to get at the man who threatened his world.

_**A/N** -_ _**Timeline:** as already stated, I have moved the BtVS back and left the HP one as is (on a note, any dates of events are taken from The Harry Potter Lexicon, a great compilation of HP facts) BtVS has been moved back 3 years, so she is born in 1978 and it is currently July 1995, the summer holidays between GoF and OoP. Harry is nearly 15, Buffy is 17. I don't have a copy of GoF with me, so some characterisation may be a little off (hopefully not by much). Let me know._


	9. Beneath Diagon Alley

_Thank you to all those who took the time to review; Xelab, manticore-gurl, Allen Pitt, Goddessa, Rosie._

_**Beneath Diagon Alley**_

Half an hour later, Buffy was once again being led to the hall of fireplaces. Instead of taking her to one of the queues for the fires, Percy directed her to a shabby red phone box on the far side of the hall, that seemed quite out of place in the sparklingly clean room. He waved her in, squeezing in behind her, and lifted the receiver of the ancient telephone.

"The Leaky Cauldron closes its fireplace in the evenings to prevent accidents, so we have to take Muggle transport" he commented, an explanation that did not cover what they were now doing.

The handset still used a dial instead of buttons to enter the number and was hanging off the wall of the booth; evidence of regular vandalism. Just as she was about to question what they were doing, Percy dialled 684453 and the box shook as they sped upwards. After about a minute, they stopped with a jolt 'The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day' the same voice from the lifts within the ministry intoned and the doors crashed open.

They emerged onto a small darkened street with the distinct smell of backstreets everywhere, facing a wall covered in graffiti. Percy performed a quick incantation; transforming his robes into an ill fitting suit, then glanced at his watch and pulled Buffy down a nearby street. "We'll have to hurry if we want to catch the last tube." Buffy had gotten strangely used to being dragged around over the past day, allowing herself to be forcefully directed through the London streets until they came to an entrance to the London Underground.

She waited patiently in the station while Percy bought them a pair of tickets, watching as trickles of people arrived to enjoy the London nightlife and the occasional businessman rushed past, hurrying home after a late night or a long drink with workmates. Percy was on edge all the way to the platform, trying not to look too hard at the strange Muggle technology around him, and only calmed down slightly when they got out onto the street again at Charring Cross.

They made their way down the street, past rows of darkened shop windows balefully looking out on the clubbers crowding the streets. Percy paused outside a large book shop and pointed at the grubby pub next door 'The Leaky Cauldron', looking somewhat affronted when she showed little interest in the sight. He led her inside to a dark room with wooden panelling, and a number of tables scattered here and there, the chairs turned upside-down on top of them.

The room was large in comparison to the deceptively small entrance on the street. Percy crossed the empty room to greet the man cleaning glasses at the bar "Tom, do you have a room free for Miss Summers to stay in tonight?"

Tom, whose balding head was as wrinkled as the rest of his face, reminding Buffy of the victims of Xander's mummy girlfriend the previous year, looked Buffy over then nodded at Percy "Sure". At his unimpressed look, Buffy looked down at her clothes. She was still wearing the same ones that she had slept in that day in the park. Now, after a day of being rushed around the American and British magical worlds, they were stained and rumpled; definitely not her best look.

"Put the charges on the Ministry account." Percy told Tom before turning back to Buffy. "I've got to go now; I'll be back in the morning when I track down Professor Dumbledore. He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts and will be organising your lessons for the next year." He added by way of explanation.

He turned to the fireplace, reaching in his pocket, then stopped, remembering something "Could I have your tube ticket back?" Percy nervously cleared his throat "I need it to claim my expenses." he blushed a deep red and grabbed the ticket out of her hand when she found it, slipping it into a pocket of his suit. "You will be alright by yourself? Tom will take care of anything you need." Buffy nodded. Reassured, he turned and left in a burst of green flames.

Buffy followed Tom up a wooden staircase to a door with a brass number nine on it. Inside the room stood a large bed, a solid dresser, and a wardrobe; a small fire burnt in the grate of the fireplace, warming the room and bathing it in a dim, comforting light. Looking at the welcoming bed, Buffy realised how long her day had been. Despite it being barely 4pm on the west coast of America, she was already exhausted and gladly sank into the soft bed, falling into the restless sleep which was all she seemed to get since Angel's death.

* * *

The next morning she awoke to find her clothes cleaned and pressed, lying over the back of the chair at her dresser. The fire, which should have sunk to mere embers long before now, was newly stoked with burning logs and an urn of water stood steaming on the dresser. After washing and dressing herself, she ventured downstairs, her stomach sent rumbling by the tantalising smell of breakfast cooking.

She took a table and was seated mere moments before Tom came up with a plate full of various fried foodstuff and a tall glass of what turned out to be pumpkin juice. In her decidedly Muggle clothes, Buffy stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other clientele; all the witches and wizards around her seemed to take great interest in discussing the unknown visitor to the Leaky Cauldron, whose unannounced appearance with a member of the ministry was jovially told to every customer as Tom served them. She lowered her head, trying to make herself less noticeable and started picking at her breakfast.

Her time in LA had made her greatly enjoy any full meal she could get, but the constant reminder of her Muggle clothes from the gossips around her had reminded her of her home, which inevitably led to thinking about _him_. It was still too painful to think of him in that way, to even voice his name in her mind. So, when Percy arrived, she was still sitting with a nearly full plate of food in front of her, idly poking it with her fork.

Percy had brought with him a tall elderly wizard whose appearance and dress ensured that noone could think he was anything else; with long silver hair, an equally long beard and an outfit that screamed 'magic'. He stared at her over a pair of half-moon spectacles with startlingly bright blue eyes, the intensity of his gaze oddly similar to that of Darren Parkins; they both gave off the uncanny sense that they were seeing more than just your expressions.

"This is Professor Dumbledore" the slight sneer in Percy's voice as he introduced the man accompanying him contradicted his instinctive deferential stance in the company of such a great wizard.

"And you must be Buffy Summers." There was weariness in his tone that opposed his firm posture and sparkling eyes. It spoke of the responsibility he held, the weight placed on narrow shoulders. He had an aura of power about him that made his presence known immediately; the room about her had gone quiet when the man had entered. She stood and nodded at the man, wary both of the power she could feel coming from him and his piercing gaze.

"Well, I've got to be leaving, lots to do you know?" Percy mumbled, disconcerted by the attention being given them by the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron and his apparent invisibility to his two companions, who were eyeing one other up thoughtfully. He left via the front door, pushing his way through the crowded room.

Left alone with Dumbledore, Buffy looked up at the man who seemed almost as uncertain what to do with her as she was with him, then the perception of power and suspicion left, leaving a cheerful man behind. He smiled comfortingly at her then gestured to her table. "If you just want to finish your meal, we'll go and get some of the things you'll need for your studies." Buffy glanced down at her barely touched plate of food and shook her head. "I'm done"

Dumbledore looked at her thoughtfully, but decided not to comment and guided her through the bar to a small courtyard. He brought out his wand and tapped a brick on the wall above a dustbin. At the point that his wand hit the wall, a small hole appeared.

The hole expanded, growing larger until it became an archway leading out to a street similar to the one that she had briefly seen on the icy mountain outside the Bureau, with a strange mix of restaurants with tables set up outside for customers to enjoy the summer sun, and shops selling everything from cauldrons, to owls and broomsticks which, as demonstrated by a teenage boy excitedly trying out his new toy outside 'Quality Quidditch Supplies', actually flew.

"I was told you have a vault at Gringotts" Buffy nodded her head absently as she continued to look around her "I have an errand I must run, If you go up this street you'll find Gringotts on the right. I'll meet you at Ollivander's to get your wand. It's further on past Gringotts. Anyone you ask will know the way."

And with that Dumbledore was off, grumbling under his breath about "Ministry wizards following me everywhere…" Buffy tried to follow his path through the crowd of shoppers, but he seemed to disappear after a few steps, his distinctive purple cloak somehow getting lost in the flurry of robed figures.

* * *

It wasn't hard to find Gringotts, if the impressive marble building wasn't enough, the red clad goblin on the doorstep gave away its position. Entering a hall similar to the one she had seen in America, but on a much larger and grander scale with a hundred goblins sitting at the counters, she went up to a goblin that didn't seem to be particularly busy and laid her key on the table.

"I'd like to take some money out of my account, please." The goblin looked up at her over the pile of gems he had been counting and picked up the key, examining it with the same eyepiece he had been using on the stones. "Name"

"B…" she started to reply, then remembered that it wasn't her adoptive name they were after, it was the one on her birth certificate. The name given to her by the very people that had abandoned her. She almost growled the name out, the anger at her parents for leaving her resurfacing as she was forced to take the name they had chosen as her own.

Startled by the tone of her reply, the goblin looked up curiously, then back at the key and slowly replied. "All seems to be in order." He shouted out at one of the other goblins, who came scurrying to his side. "Take the lady to her vault" he handed over her key. The new goblin led her through a door to a narrow stone passage lit with torches.

At a whistle, a cart came hurtling down railway tracks towards them. They climbed in and surged off, speeding down steep slopes through a maze of twisting passages until they suddenly stopped beside a small door in the passage wall. They got off, Buffy slightly unsteady on her feet from the disorientating motion of the cart and the goblin opened the door.

She should have known what to expect, her feelings for her biological parents so conflicted there was no way that seeing what was contained in the vault the key gained her access to would leave her unaffected. Regardless, the anger that welled up inside her was unexpected. The key had somehow come to represent all the childish daydreams she had once had, of kidnapping and distraught mothers. Because however much the Summer's loved her, however perfect her childhood was, she had never been able to shake the pain any thought of wilful abandonment bought. And looking into that vault destroyed those dreams, bringing all the walls she had built about that hurt tumbling down.

Inside were heaps of golden coins, and piles of silver and bronze. She looked at the piles of money with growing anger. Was this her parent's way of buying her forgiveness? She kicked over a stack of coins causing a ripple effect that collapsed most of the careful columns within. This wasn't anything close to enough for her to forgive them. No amount of money could repay what they had done.

She was about to turn and leave, then stopped and looked thoughtfully at the coins in front of her. She would need it to live in this world… and they might as well support her… but she wasn't going back to them. Wasn't going to try to find them. They had given up their chance to be a part of her life more than seventeen years ago. She stuffed handfuls of the coins into a bag the goblin handed to her and, with one last look of disgust at the mounds of coins within, turned away from the vault.

**A/N - Story Revisions:** For clarity when reading reviews which may mention this alteration; there was originally a letter left in Buffy's vault for her. This has been removed.


	10. Sparks and Dust

_Three cheers for all my reviewers: General Mac, Allen Pitt, Miricle Anne Summers, pamie, manticore-gurl, Shabopo, LittleDrusilla, Goddessa, Mari, aleclovemax, Rosie._

_time for some magic..._

_**Sparks and Dust**_

She left Gringotts in a daze and walked along the street ignoring the other people around her, finally coming to a stop when she noticed that the heavy flow of human traffic had dwindled to a trickle and the shops on either side were closer together than they had been further down the street, closing in around the shoppers. She looked around and saw the very shop she had been told to go to.

It had quite a narrow shop front, with the words 'Ollivander's – Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC' written above the door in gold. As she entered a small bell could be heard ringing deep inside the shop announcing her arrival, she perched on the frail-looking chair in the centre of the dusty room waiting for someone to come out. All around her Buffy could sense the tension of the potential magic in the room; the boxes of wands, neatly stacked against the walls all called out, craving the person that would use them.

The slight creak of a floorboard, only audible due to her slayer hearing, was the only warning she had before a soft voice greeted her from behind. She stood and turned to find an old man watching her with large silvery eyes.

"hmm, and who do we have here?"

"Buffy Summers" Buffy replied, trying to edge backwards into the wall as the man inspected her closer.

"Summers… and American? Any relation to Professor Summers, the Arithmacy teacher at Salem?" Buffy moved herself out from between the shopkeeper and the wall

"No, my parents are Muggles." Mr Ollivander nodded thoughtfully and circled her, pulling out a tape measure

"Hold out your wand arm."

Buffy thought momentarily then held up her right arm, fighting the impulse that told her to save her stronger arm for a more deadly weapon.

He brought the measure to her and frowned slightly at it, glancing again at her in an assessing manner. "This is your first wand?"

"Yes, I…" he waved away her explanation, satisfied that his instrument was working; he left it to complete its measurements.

As the tape measure wove around her of its own accord, he moved to the stacks of wands talking as he picked out boxes "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same just as no two dragons, unicorns or phoenixes are quite the same. Your wand will be specifically chosen to suit you, and you will never get as good results with another wizard's wand."

As he turned from the shelves he noticed Buffy fighting to stop the tape measure from continuing its path across her body in a manner which had become slightly inappropriate and shook his head "That will do" he murmured angrily at it. Whatever had been animating it left at those words and Buffy suddenly found she was fighting a limp tape, unwinding it from herself she let it fall to the floor. Ollivander handed Buffy a wand "Here, take this" she took the wand and wondered what exactly was meant to be happening as Ollivander stared at it expectantly "Give it a wave" he flapped his arms at her in exasperation.

She waved the wand above her head. Nothing. It was snatched out of her hand and another box handed to her "Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Try… no" once again snatched out of her grasp. The boxes of failed attempts started to pile up as Ollivander made more trips to the stacks.

"Try this. Phoenix Feather and Yew, a powerful combination, twelve and three quarter inches" He held a box out to her with a thin wand resting inside "Now take the wand and gi…" He stopped mid sentence as when Buffy raised the wand. As soon as she had picked it up out of the box she felt a surge of power run through her, towards the wand. The slight flick caused beams to shoot out of the wand, cutting a streak across the shop.

It was hard to distinguish the colour of the beam. It wasn't dark, so much as anti-light. If you take black as being no light, then this was what you got when you carried on into negative quantities of light. Looking at the beams, your gaze was sucked in, as was the meagre amount of light coming through the dusty window. Balancing out the two until it seemed like the room was contained in its own personal night, giving the shop an even more eerie feel.

Where the beams met one of the shelf-lined walls of the shop, it interacted with the wands, sending blinding streams of light to be engulfed in the darkness. The affects without were mirrored within; something inside that feed from the power, flowing beneath her skin. Terrified by what she had done, Buffy dropped the wand and started shaking. She felt like she had just run flat out across town, her muscles were so weak. A dark part of herself had connected with the wand, used it to force out into the world. She never wanted to experience that again.

Mr Ollivander stared at her in shock for a moment before taking in the damage which had been done to his shop. Many of the boxes that had lined the walls had fallen down in a cascade, and were now heaped on the floor around them. He tut tutted under his breath and waved his own wand, sending the boxes flying back to their previous positions.

A moment later it was impossible to tell that anything has happened; everything, including the dust and spiders webs, had returned to their previous positions. "Not right, definitely not right" he mumbled as he went back to searching among the shelves, his lack of a severe adverse reaction to what had happened the only thing that stopped her from running away from the shop, perhaps even the wizarding world. Even with this reassurance Buffy might have if she thought she'd get far, if she had anywhere to go.

Now he took more time over his selection of wands, often almost selecting a wand, then pulling his hand away as if it was burnt. He actually handed her one box, but pulled it away before she could even open it with a muttered "No, no… mustn't do that, let's try…" He glanced along his shelves, before snatching a box. "Hazel and unicorn hair, ten inches. Quite whippy. Try -"

She gingerly reached for the wand, terrified of once more seeing the sickening light emerge from wood under her fingertips, reminding herself that all the wands she had tried before that one hadn't had any effect at all. She sighed in relief when she lifted the wand, and nothing happened.

Instead of seeming disappointed at the failure of his carefully chosen wand, Mr Ollivander returned to his shelves, reappearing with a box after box for Buffy to try. She started to relax, feeling safe from the dark light that she'd somehow made. Finally Mr Ollivander came to her with "Birch and dragon heartstring. Nine and a quarter inches. Pliable"

Buffy touched the wand and felt a glorious sense of belonging warm her heart. It touched her in a way similar to how the other one had, but this time it didn't reek of the malevolent darkness that had overcome her when she had produced the beam, and instead of sucking the energy and life force out of her, it boosted her spirit, warming her soul. She waved the wand and was delighted when golden sparks drew a trail of shooting stars through the still air.

"Well done, very good…" Buffy didn't pay attention to anything, amazed to see the proof that she could perform harmless, beautiful magic, until Mr Ollivander snatched the wand out of her hand and wrapped it up in its box. She started to protest, when a low voice behind her reminded her that she wasn't allowed to use the wand outside school grounds until she was properly trained.

Buffy turned and assessed Dumbledore's expression. Had he been here when she'd used _that_ wand? She couldn't see anything on his face to indicate that he had witnessed that dark and destructive power; instead he was merely smiling amiably at her. As she sighed in relief, Mr Ollivanders' next words chilled her chilled her to the bone.

"I would like a word with you, if you would wait a moment Professor." She tried to hide the fearful expression that she knew must be written all over her face. Why did he have to be told about the incident? It wasn't like she'd done it on purpose.

"I'm sorry but I have an urgent appointment elsewhere, I'll have to speak to you at another time"

Mr Ollivander regarded Dumbledore, deciding whether to press the importance of the point, then turned to Buffy and held out the box in his hands "That will be Eight Galleons" Buffy sighed in relief, then searched in her pouch for the appropriate coins and looked up Dumbledore, helpless, with a handful of coins. He picked out eight of the Gold ones, explaining the worth of the various coins before exchanging them for the wand and putting it safely away in a pocket of his robe.

"I'm sorry Ollivander, but I've just heard some very disturbing news. We'll have to go back to Hogwarts directly. I've organised for your books, robes, and other equipment to be sent on to the school." He finished, speaking to Buffy. Dumbledore turned to Ollivander "Do you have a fire we could use?" he politely, but hurriedly enquired.

"Of course…" Mr Ollivander led them to a fireplace in the back of the long shop.

Dumbledore pointed his wand at it and said "Incendio" starting up a blaze in the empty fireplace. "We're going to 'Hogsmeade Post Office'" He handed her a handful of Floo powder and gestured for her to step into the flames.

Buffy quickly stepped out of the way when she arrived to let Dumbledore into the room as she heard him coming close behind her. She had emerged in another room of fireplaces, though this one only hosted four very basic things with none of the ornate stonework on those in the Bureau or the gilded elegance of those in the Ministry.

They went through a small wooden doorway into a room filled with the sounds and smells of birds. The cause of the smell was lined up on perches on the walls; hundreds of owls ranging from huge ones that stood more than two feet high, to the tiny ones for "Local Deliveries Only". Dumbledore and Buffy passed by the shelves of birds and out onto a cobbled street. The fresh country air let Buffy know that she was now far from London.

Waiting outside was a carriage drawn by two of the strangest creatures that Buffy had ever seen. The beasts were like skeletal spectres, with their black, bat like wings and glowing eyes. Their skin, which seemed to be like the membrane of their wings; thin and leathery black, clung to meatless bodies, highlighting every bone in their horse-like frame. The two animals turned to face Buffy, sniffing the air.

Dumbledore looked at her expression, fixated on the creatures "You can see them?"

"Yeah." Buffy frowned, confused by the question, wondering how she was meant to miss such bizarre beasts.

Dumbledore observed her sadly "Thestrals can only be seen by people who have seen death"

_People who have seen death._

Buffy saw flashes of her life since becoming a Slayer… Angel's death… she had not only seen, but lived death for the past few years.

Feeling his gaze still upon her she sought an explanation that would be acceptable for Dumbledore "I saw my cousin die in a hospital when I was young" she shivered slightly, imitating a reaction to the beasts that she hoped would seem normal for a person who hadn't been dealing with demonic creatures for years, who hadn't learnt to take death in her stride.

While the coach rattled through the village, Buffy idly watched the faces of the people they passed as their 'horses' came into view, trying to judge from the reactions whether they could see the fearful animals drawing the coach. They soon emerged from the village and all there was to see was the dark green forest that lined the road. Watching the shadows under the trees, she occasionally saw strange animals darting between the trees, she felt the Slayer rise in her, willing her to dive into the woods and let out all her pain, guilt and anger forcefully on the dark creatures within.

Finally as they rounded a bend in the road, she caught sight of a vast castle, seemingly made up of a mismatch of battlements, turrets and towers, all emerging from different heights along the main wall. "That's Hogwarts" for the first time any weariness had left Dumbledore's tone; he seemed more content and relaxed as he returned to the place in which he truly belonged. It sat in a prominent position on a raised portion of land and, as they made their way closer to the building, sheer cliffs came into view; descending from the far side of the castle into a deep blue lake below.

She looked out of her window at the place that was to be her home for the next year, watching it get closer until, in next to no time at all, they were pulling up outside a pair of wooden doors. Buffy climbed out of the carriage and, before Dumbledore had stepped down beside her, the doors swung open to reveal a tall witch.


	11. The Importance of Houses

_Huge thanks to all who reviewed: sparky, mj, Vampyresgirl, Sangfroid, Goddessa, pamie, L, Allen Pitt, Violet Star, emerald sorceress, chicklepea, Bobboky, Hope, Charmed-angel, LittleDrusilla, Xelab, manticore-gurl_

_**The Importance of Houses**_

The witch was a stern looking woman with greying black hair, pulled back into a tight bun. Her neat robes flowed around her as she came down the steps to greet them, looking enquiringly at Buffy over square glasses as she descended before turning to Dumbledore and speaking with a formality that contrasted with her now warm expression. "Some letters have arrived that may be important" She glanced pointedly at Buffy, obviously expecting an explanation.

"This is Buffy Summers, it's a long story, but she is 17 and untrained. Miss Summers, this is Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts."

"Pleased to meet you" the witch's eyebrows rose when she heard Buffy's accent, Buffy smiled grimly at the reaction "yes, I'm American. He did say it was a long story."

"And definitely not one we should be getting into before lunch." Dumbledore broke in before the witch could voice any of the queries that flickered over her inquisitive face "Is it ready by any chance?"

"Yes, lunch is about to be served."

"Then would you please collect the Sorting Hat from my office and bringing it to the Great Hall? Miss Summers must be sorted."

She nodded and started up the steps in front of them, leading the way into the castle. McGonagall continued on up the marble staircase directly opposite the door but Dumbledore prevented Buffy from following, drawing Buffy towards some doors to the right, explaining on the way what he had meant by sorting.

"The students at Hogwarts are split into four Houses; called Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff; they are sorted into a House when they join the school." As he spoke, they had walked into a huge room. It contained four huge tables, each of which stretched the length of the room, and one smaller table horizontally across them all at the far end. "These are the students' tables. Which one you sit at during term time will depend on your House. You will also have your lessons with housemates, sleep in your House dormitory and spend much of your free time in their common room."

As they made their way up between the tables to the one at the end, Buffy's attention was drawn to the ceiling. At first glance it seemed as though the room had no roof, looking straight out onto a cloudless sky, but on closer inspection she could see the faint shadows of rafters hidden in the clear blue sky. "The ceiling is bewitched to look like the sky outside" Buffy was startled by a strange, high pitched voice, and looked down to find that while she had been examining her surroundings, they had made their way to the end of the hall. A man, the smallest in stature of all those at the table, had spoken to her from across it.

"This is Professor Flitwick, our Charms Master and also head of Ravenclaw. Filius, this is Buffy Summers. She will be staying here for the year." In a louder voice to the other occupants of the table who were, in some cases visibly, straining to hear the conversation, Dumbledore bellowed "I would like to call a staff meeting, commencing after lunch, to discuss our new arrival."

The other teachers seemed slightly perturbed that they wouldn't find out about the strange guest immediately, but resigned themselves to waiting, being used to following Dumbledore's orders. Before they could become restless, McGonagall returned, a very battered looking hat in her hand.

"What's that?" Buffy asked.

"This is the Sorting Hat. It decides which House you belong in."

"It decides? How does it know?" That she had unwittingly spoken the words out loud was a testament of how much the last few day's happenings had affected her.

From down the table a response came, though Buffy could not pinpoint where the speaker "It looks into your mind."

"Look into my mind?" Buffy's overwhelmed expression melted into concern, settling on the hat. What would it see in hers?

McGonagall's stern face flickered for a moment with pity for the girl. Older teenagers had a lot more secrets than eleven year olds, far more complex emotions to hide "Do not worry; It doesn't actually see thoughts. It merely assesses your character and capabilities." She handed the hat to Buffy.

Buffy stood for a moment with the object in her hands, unsure whether she would reveal all her secrets by putting it on. Taking a wary look along the teachers table, she saw that their patience was wearing thin, waiting for her to do this before starting their meal. Oh well Buffy decided, if it comes out, there's nothing I can do, so she put the hat onto her head.

For a moment, looking at the dark inside of the hat, Buffy thought that this was just some kind of elaborate joke being played on her by the middle aged teachers. Then she heard a quiet voice right up against her ear. _"Hmm… what a mind, what a mind. So much hurt, so much pain. There's power, oh yes, but you've used up all your drive to use it. Where should I put you?"_ It paused in its thoughtful musings, as if waiting for a reply. When none was forthcoming, it made a noise almost like an _"hmph"_ of annoyance and continued _"Well, you're only here for a year, so it had better be… RAVENCLAW!" _

Buffy waited, unsure of what to do, but it quickly became obvious that the hat had completed its task, when it began to snore lightly. Carefully taking off the hat so as to not disturb its slumber, she found the teachers, particularly Dumbledore and Flitwick, looking at her thoughtfully. She wondered what this House thing meant, what they used to decide where you went, why they needed a hat, even one capable of thought, to make the decision for them.

McGonagall cleared her throat and held out her hand for Buffy to return the hat. It was very similar to the trial; standing in front of the teachers table with them all staring across at her, judging her. This time not by her actions but by the House she was assigned to. Finally the small man, Professor Flitwick, created a chair from thin air with a wave of his wand and a few choice words. He looked at Dumbledore, silently asking for permission to take charge of the new addition to his House and, when it was granted with a sincere nod, started telling Buffy of his plans; intermittently glancing to the Headmaster for his approval.

"If you take a seat, after the meal I'll show you to the dormitory you'll be staying in, and leave you to settle in. Later I'll discuss your schedule and we'll plan your curriculum."

The food was beautifully prepared, producing amazing aromas, but the flavours turned to ashes in her mouth; the attention she was receiving from the faculty making her too on edge to enjoy the meal. Instead she absent-mindedly poked at her food while listening to the idle chatter going on around her. Trying to ignore the fugitive glances sent her way whenever the conversation veered towards the subject of their new guest. Buffy was still pushing food about her plate when Professor Flitwick's distinctive voice invaded her thoughts, asking if she was done. Looking up, she found that lunch had ended, many of the staff leaving having completed their meal, she stood and followed him through the castle.

They climbed staircases and wandered down corridors, all the way her Head of House issued a running commentary of their journey, including warnings such as "Every Tuesday this step disappears" and "Of course, this corridor moves to the third floor every other month and you have to take…"

His helpful directions confused Buffy so much that she soon stopped even attempting to remember them. Finally they halted beside a large bronzed figure of an eagle mid flight, its claws outstretched as it reached down, seemingly intent on grasping any people walking by.

"This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw tower, the password is 'Aquila Chrysaetos'"

At those words the eagle lowered its wings revealing an opening into a spiral staircase winding up into the wall. They clambered up the vast bronze wings and into the stairwell, continuing upwards as the wings creaked back into place behind them, hiding the stairs from sight. The staircase ended in the centre of a large circular room, filled with large polished tables surrounded by chairs to work at, as well as hard leather armchairs and sofas gathered around fireplaces in the walls.

The dark wood used in the panelling and furniture gave the room a slightly enclosed feeling. All the upholstery was dyed a deep navy blue, and above each of fireplaces hung a tapestry in blue and bronze with the symbol of the House; an eagle. Buffy stared thoughtfully at the bird as Flitwick continued the tour in his high toned voice.

"Feel free to roam the castle. In order to leave you merely need to stroke the back of the eagles head. Any out of bounds areas will be locked, so you are welcome to go anywhere you can get in to. Ask the paintings if you get lost, most of them are helpful."

"What do the Houses mean?" Buffy wondered out loud. Flitwick paused and stared at her, surprised by the sudden interruption by the silent girl. With his full attention firmly on her for the first time, she babbled an elaboration "I mean… how does that hat know who belongs where?"

"Well there are certain attributes that each of the founders preferred" when this did nothing to diffuse Buffy's perplexed expression he hastened to explain further "The Houses are named after the four people who founded the school centuries ago, you see. Godric Gryffindor chose young wizards to teach based on their courage, Helga Hufflepuff especially prized loyalty, Salazar Slytherin only taught pupils with cunning and ambition and Rowena Ravenclaw loved the intelligent students. The Sorting Hat was once Godric's. He bewitched it to sort students into the House they'd fit best after the Founders had died and could no longer choose themselves."

Buffy didn't reply to this speech and after a long moment, Flitwick stopped waiting for one, leading his student up one of the two spiral staircases which wound around the wall of the common room to show her the girl's dormitory. When left alone by the Professor, who excused himself to go to the staff meeting of Dumbledore's, she lay on one of the beds staring into nothing, lost in thought.

The past few days had been full of huge changes to her life and it was only now beginning to dawn on her that this was all real. Since waking up in the park she had been put on trial by wizards, deported, and sent to a magic school. It had all seemed like some terrible yet fascinating dream in which she could immerse herself, forgetting about the people she'd left behind, the love she'd lost. Hearing the list of attributes of the Houses brought into sharp focus what she'd done when she'd left Sunnydale.

How could she be put in Gryffindor when she didn't have the courage to follow her destiny, Hufflepuff when she had abandoned the friends who had been loyal to her until the end, according to the hat she hadn't even been ambitious enough for Slytherin. The prospect of dying before you reach adulthood and the death of _him_ had destroyed any ambitions she'd ever had for the future.

No, instead she'd been put in a House that prides itself on intelligence! Why the hat thought Buffy would fit in here, she couldn't understand. She looked around at the deep blue drapes around her four poster bed; the decorators of the Ravenclaw tower certainly didn't want you to forget where you were.

It dawned on her that she was finally in a place that wasn't just a stopover in a strange cell or pub, but the place she had to stay at for nearly a year. She was obviously in this House by default, her deficits in the attributes required for the other Houses outweighing her lack of intelligence. She had abandoned her friends, family, duty, and was now stuck in a House she didn't belong in, in a country she didn't know, surrounded by a culture of wizards and magic that she didn't understand.

Buffy felt entirely alone, and all she wanted was _him_, was Angel. Finally allowing herself to say his name, to admit he was gone broke something in her. She cried out to him in the night, the wail of a creature that's lost its mate, and hid her head in the pillows, trying to hide her tears.

When Professor Flitwick returned to discuss the lesson structure agreed by the staff, he heard the sobs from down in the Ravenclaw common room and left her in peace. Knowing that in the past three days, she had been taken away from everything she knew, though not understanding the extent of her loss. He compassionately allowed her to recover before forcing her into the hellish schedule of work needed to catch up to the level the Minister had set.

That evening, the last light of the dying sun as it descended into the horizon shone through a window onto the grieving figure of the slayer.


	12. Lesson Plans

_Thanks as always goes to all those who reviewed: Locathah, Shabopo, pamie, Sangfroid, Allen Pitt, Sigmal, General Mac_

_**Lesson Plans**_

Five days later, it was a much thinner Buffy that made her way through the corridors of the castle. She hadn't eaten more than a few bites of the food left in her room by the house-elves since she had holed herself up in the dormitory days before. In her grief she hadn't felt hungry at all, and had only eaten enough to prevent the teachers from storming in and force feeding her or following though with their threats of confining her to the hospital wing, which had grown steadily more believable by the day. From overheard conversations she had gathered that it was Dumbledore and Flitwick she had to thank for being left alone in her grief.

That had been then, and this was now, and though she still felt the pain of her sorrow like a dull ache in her soul, it was no longer coming in engulfing waves as it had before her outburst, or causing her the constant intense pain she'd felt the past few days, merely from the fact that she was alive and here and safe, and Angel wasn't. Buffy could now just about think his name without a flood of emotion overwhelming her, though she did feel a sob well up in her throat.

Buffy left the room, going straight through the Ravenclaw common room with its new addition of a trunk embossed with her name and House containing a hat she hoped they didn't want her to wear, some plain black copies of the robes all wizards seemed to wear, equipment and books. From the look of the amount of books she had to study, Buffy wouldn't be doing much else this holiday. She had wandered aimlessly out into the corridor and through the castle, not paying any closer attention to where she was going than she had on her first trip to the Ravenclaw tower, and was now terribly lost.

What had Flitwick said? If you get lost ask the paintings. She turned to the moving portraits that had graced the walls of almost every magical building she had visited. Seeing painted faces move around her had become so normal that she had hardly noticed the movements of the crowd which had followed her along the walls of the corridors. She turned to face a group of painted figures, who halted their whispered conversation when she looked at them.

"Do you know which way to…" Buffy paused and thought about where she wanted to go. Not back to the Ravenclaw tower, the Great Hall was off; she didn't want to see all the teachers, who might still be eating their lunch. Flitwick, the Ravenclaw Head hadn't seemed so bad, and he had said that he wanted to talk to her. She changed her question "Does Professor Flitwick have an office?"

After some discussion, a man in a costume that could have come out of a Shakespearian play stepped forward from the group "Yes, If you take the next corridor on the right…"

He was interrupted by one of the other paintings pulling on his ruff, whispering at him about "A short cut through the…" Ignoring her words, he and the others stared down the large woman who had disturbed him, until eventually she walked out of the frame in a huff when they refused to listen to her.

Once she had left the spokesman continued his directions "… as I was saying, take the next corridor on the right, up the flight of stairs at the end and it's the third door on your left" all the remaining figures in the painting seemed to agree with these directions so Buffy set off down the passage.

* * *

Buffy was surprised to find that she actually passed the great bronze eagle that was the entrance to the Ravenclaw tower on the way to Flitwick's office, though on reflection it did make sense to have the head of House near his students. She stopped outside his door and knocked, waiting for his squeaky reply before entering. The man was almost hidden behind a desk piled high in books and scrolls with a high chair behind it to bring the small Professor level with the worktop.

"Hello Miss Summers, how are you feeling?"

Buffy flushed, embarrassed at the reminder that the whole school, including the building itself if you count the paintings, knew of her outburst of grief. "I'm… better, thank you sir. You wanted to talk to me?"

"Ah yes, your studies…" He sorted through the muddle of scrolls on his desk until he came to the appropriate set "As I'm sure you know, the… Minister…" his lack of respect for the man holding that position was evident in the small man's tone "has charged us to tutor you up to a level where you can complete your OWLs at the end of this coming school year. OWLs are usually taken after five years of study, so unfortunately you will have to work very hard to catch up." Flitwick looked at her from under his bushy eyebrows as if trying to judge if she was up to the challenge.

"We have decided that, in the summer, we will get you as far as possible in the core magical subjects – Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology. If you've got far enough in these subjects by the end of the holidays, you may take on an extra subject during term time." He peered at another piece of parchment before adding it to the growing collection he had set aside.

"As the teachers are on their own holidays, you will be expected to mostly do the work by yourself. I will be here to help you with your Charms work and expect you to start reading your text this week. Professor Sprout will be in the Greenhouse a lot of the time, so visit her if you have any questions on your Herbology work. Professors McGonagall and Snape will be away from the castle allot, but they will drop by occasionally to assess your progress and set essays. Professor Snape will be overseeing your work in both Potions and Defence, as our DADA teacher left at the end of the last school year. Your teachers have written lists of reading requirements and essay subjects with due dates." He had gathered together a worrying amount of scrolls, handing them to Buffy.

"You are slightly behind due to your… illness…" He smiled comfortingly at her, then looked about, putting on a secretive manner, and whispered to her conspiratorially. "If I was you I'd do the work for Professor Snape first, he will not take kindly to you being behind when he visits."

Buffy nodded silently, glancing through some of the assignments on the scrolls. It seemed that they actually did expect her to read all of the books in the trunk. She was beginning to think magic school wasn't going to be so fun after all. Collecting the scrolls into her arms, she thanked the small wizard glumly, and made her way back to the tower.

* * *

An hour later she heard a gasp as someone else entered the tower. Since Buffy had the common room, which was intended, judging by its size, to house at least a hundred students, all to herself; she had taken over the whole room with her work. In an attempt to avoid the large workload she was faced with, Buffy instead organised her equipment and books required for each subject onto different tables and put notes in the pages she'd need to use for essays.

This all made the room seem as if there were at least thirty occupants, not just one lone girl. Buffy had just finished sorting it all out, and was dejectedly considering the fact that perhaps she should actually start doing some of the work, when she was disturbed by the presence in the room.

Professor McGonagall looked over the mess Buffy had managed to create with a kind of fascinated horror, before alighting her eyes on Buffy. As soon as her gaze fell on the petite American, it hardened, her face returning to its standard stern expression, this time highlighted by a hint of distrust.

"The Headmaster would like to see you in his office." She indicated for her to go down the stairs, purposely keeping Buffy in her line of sight as she moved towards the exit; the Deputy Headmistress's suspicion evident. As they walked through the hallways to Dumbledore's office, she thought about the only reason he could want to see her or, at least, the only one that might cause Professor McGonagall's new attitude towards her; _that_ wand. She had known that eventually Ollivander would tell him, but with her mind on anything but magic for the past few days, she'd stopped worrying about what his reaction would be, how this might distance her from her only companions in this strange country.

They finally stopped outside a stone figure of a gargoyle and McGonagall said the password, causing it to reveal the entrance to the Headmaster's office. It was a round room, situated in one of the numerous towers of the castle, filled with odd objects, many of them whirring away as they completed some unknown purpose. In a prominent central position was a large desk behind which Dumbledore himself was seated with three teachers; Flitwick and two others Buffy didn't know, standing beside him.

"Won't you take a seat?" Buffy hastily sat down, hoping his amiable expression meant that she wasn't in too much trouble. "Would you like some tea?" She took the offered cup and gingerly sipped it, slightly put off by the intense stare of the tall man who stood directly behind Dumbledore. His greasy black locks shrouded most of his face from view; all that could be seen were his beady eyes and large hooked nose, the concealment of his face only adding to the strength of his glare. "I spoke to Ollivander, He told me about your incident with the wand. Do you have anything to say?"

"Uh, I didn't do anything deliberately, it just happened when I picked up the wand." He nodded thoughtfully

"I see, what did the connection to the wand feel like?"

Buffy thought back to the sickening darkness she had felt when she waved that wand, the sense of something moving, awakening within "It wasn't nice… I don't know really… It was different to the one I bought."

"Yes, it would be. The thing is, we can only create magic without the effort of incantations, without purpose, using a wand that connects to our power source within. Most wizards only have one power source, but sometimes people can have more than one power source. A girl who was half veela and half wizard, for example might have a source of both her veela and her wizarding power. Does this make sense?"

Buffy decided that it wasn't worth mentioning that she had no clue what a 'veela' was, so merely nodded and gulped down her tea. It made sense now, that power had come from the part of her that was a slayer… but did these wizards know about slayers? Did they now know what she was? Would they try to force her to take part in their fight against the evil wizard Neil had talked about if she told them? She felt something, something indescribably foreign whisper through her mind as the Headmaster continued. Buffy shook her head and the sense of otherness retreated, a creature flinching back as it realised it had been observed.

"The power that came from that wand was quite… malevolent." She waited breathlessly for them to tell her they knew; that she had to go back and face what had happened, that there was no escape from her calling. "We were wondering if you had been bitten by any wild dogs recently."

Buffy almost laughed in relief as all the teachers looked at her intently, waiting for her answer.

They thought she was a werewolf. She considered letting them continue to think so, it wasn't like they'd find out until the next full moon. But then the presence returned to her mind, accompanied by something else that was sharper and more intrusive than the one that had almost stayed hidden in her surface thoughts before.

There was a slight, barely noticeable, pressure on her thoughts, oddly reminiscent of the control the Master had somehow had over her, and her thoughts of werewolves were pushed over to the memories they were linked to. Jumbled images of a boy with hair that changed shades with each scene; laughing with her best friend, performing on stage, a face and bare shoulders seen through the mesh of a cadge. She concentrated, forcing the thoughts down, away, and the pressure which had brought them up out.

But there was still something, someone there. In her head tickling at her senses as it floated in the backdrop of her mind. Could the vague sense of self in her head tell if she lied? Was it worth testing?

"No, I'm not a werewolf."

The greasy, sneering man was quite surprised that the blonde American had managed to figure out where their not-so-subtle line of questioning was going, looking at her with a new level of respect as he decided he should probably retract his previous plan of just writing her off. Although perhaps that should have been done earlier, when she was sorted.

"Do you know anything about your real parents that might hint where this power is from?" Dumbledore asked her, not at all surprised by the new Ravenclaw's agile mind.

She tensed, half expecting that overwhelming force to try and pull more out of her, but nothing came, only the faint pressure that sat like a parasite on her thoughts.

"My parent's names weren't on my birth certificate" It was the truth, an evasive answer but nevertheless a truthful one. The thought of them, even without any pressure on her mind, brought on a wave of anger and hurt, a jumble of emotions connected to her adoption. She didn't want the whole room knowing about her life, though they possibly had already found out as much from Dumbledore.

She looked carefully across the desk at the Headmaster, daring him to reveal himself and dig deeper, certain who it was delving into her mind. That pressure began to build again, stronger this time as it tried to force out memories, but now she knew what to expect; blocking out her thoughts and emotions as she had when she resisted the Masters thrall.

"Was there anything in your given name that might suggest who your parents are?" She should have known that someone clever enough to run a school wouldn't be fooled into thinking that meant she had no clues to who they were. If they found out her name they might know who her parents were and try to find something else, to find out the truth of the slayer's power within her. Or worse, try to make her contact them. She could feel a consciousness within her own waiting, hoping to catch her in an outright lie, but perhaps they would be thrown off by another partial truth.

"They named me 'Anne'. It's my middle name now, Buffy Anne Summers." Dumbledore nodded, those bright blue eyes holding her gaze as surely as his mind had her thoughts, assessing the honesty of her words.

"Do not try to access this other power; as you saw in Ollivanders, it is not benign and you might harm yourself." He stared her straight in the eye, trying to impose on her the importance of this. What he didn't understand was that she never wanted to feel like that ever again.

By some subtle signal, it seemed, he had opened the floor to his senior staff; Dumbledore sat back, those eyes intently upon her as they continued the questioning. When she was dismissed from the room after many more inane questions, she lent back against the door in relief at having deceived them. She heard voices trickle through the door.

_"I think she was lying" a bitter voice commented_

_"You detected a falsehood from her Severus?" that was the lilting tone of McGonagall_

_"No, nothing she said was a lie, but…"_

_"But you couldn't get deep enough to unveil all without notice, I know." The Headmaster mused. _

_"How could one so young and untrained in our ways have such defences?"_

_"Yes, she is definitely... unusual. In more than just the way she was found" Dumbledore paused and those both inside and out of the office held their breaths; waiting for the verdict. "I am sure she told us everything she could. Now, do you have nothing better to do than bicker in my office?"_

Buffy heard the approach of the teachers to the door and bolted downstairs. She only stopped running when she got to the eagle statue. Did no one in this stupid country trust her enough to just let her be?

So they had some power that could sense your thoughts, or at least the honesty of them, since if they could read everything that went through her head they couldn't help but know what she was, who she was. Her experiences as a slayer seemed to give her the ability to resist to some degree. At least they hadn't asked her outright what she thought the reason for her power was. She didn't think she could have hidden a direct lie.

**A/N - Story Revisions:** For clarity when reading reviews which may mention this alteration; it was originally Veritaserum not Legilimancy used to verify the truth of Buffy's words.


	13. Beneath the Moon

_Thanks to all those who reviewed, here's the roll of honor: pamie, Allen Pitt, Goddessa, Perfect Darkness, Shabopo, Sigma1, Sangfroid, ginger, Xelab, LittleDrusilla, chicklepea, sparky, Violet Star_

_**Beneath the Moon**_

Buffy wandered through the grounds of the school, walking along the side of the lake as the sun set behind the castle, lighting the sky a deep red as the dim glow refracted through the cloudy sky above. Over the past month, she had been forced, more by mere boredom than any pressure from the staff, to actually do some of the work set her.

She had quickly found that there was nothing whatsoever for her to do in this empty school to distract from her work and in order to prevent her thoughts from wandering back to Angel, back to Sunnydale, Buffy started to learn magic. Her time had become spilt between hours of work and, when she felt like her brain was about to explode or she reasoned that sitting staring aimlessly at her books was pointless, long walks around the grounds and castle.

Unfortunately during the daytime Buffy couldn't seem to escape being caught by at least one of the teachers in the corridors of the school, no matter what obscure routes she took and dusty rooms she ducked into, they seemed to have a sixth sense for detecting purposeless teens. Whenever they found her wandering about school, she was set more work, or made to spend hours demonstrating spells, before she was released.

If Professor Snape was in the castle such a capture inevitably led to hours in the dungeon in front of a bubbling cauldron and essays on whatever new dark creature he had thought up. He was always trying to judge her reaction to the names, or catch her out with obscure questions, seeing if she knew more about the subject than she had a right to.

While some of the teachers, Snape in particular, remained wary around her, Flitwick and Sprout seemed to have taken Dumbledore at his word and acted quite amiably towards her, as did Dumbledore himself when he was in the castle. McGonagall however, despite maintaining a professional manner, always withdrew more than was necessary whenever Buffy was about to cast a spell, and could occasionally be caught watching Buffy, eyes narrowed to suspicious slits, as if by merely looking she could tell what or who Buffy was.

In part, the space she left around Buffy while she was casting could have been a case of self-preservation; sometimes Buffy's spells had erratic results while she mastered a new technique, especially when the lack of exercise was preventing her from relaxing. Before, when she hadn't been slaying it had been her own choice, using up the energy from her core to feed the anger and despair that had overwhelmed her. But now there was no way for her to free that part of her, and the power that should be used to heal and fight was seeping out, making her restless and seeming to bleed into her spells.

The longer she spent without having satisfied the urge to slay, the more often she felt the power rising within her at the most inopportune times. This magnified the effect of slight errors in her spells, and made even the ones she did correctly stronger, less controllable.

Initially she had thought it was merely the advancing of her work, it was understandable that the second year spells would be more difficult to master than those from the first. But even the more understanding of her teachers soon began to show some concern, and when she had tried incantations that a few weeks ago were trivial and harmless she found them going wrong in the most bizarre ways. No wonder they treated her with caution.

Regardless of its reasons, distrust breeds distrust, and her treatment in the Headmaster's office had destroyed any chance the faculty had of learning her secrets; well unless they decided to forcibly read her mind anyway. Buffy did contemplate running away, but she was sure that they would be able to find her in the same way those wizards in America had. She could easily overpower three or four wizards if she had to, but that would just lead them to send more to stun her without coming close enough to get hurt.

And in doing so they would, no doubt, find out who she was. Besides, where did she have to go; the Watcher's Council? They were the only chance she might have, except following the wizard's rules, of returning to the country she grew up in, but Buffy wasn't sure how they could help, or even if they would.

They might just send her back to Sunnydale with her tail between her legs, or worse; give her a new Watcher and send her somewhere else, where she would be alone. She didn't think she could bear to work with a Watcher other than Giles, and she really wasn't ready to resume her calling on or off the Hellmouth, not to mention the ramifications when the wizards finally caught up with her.

Even should she manage escape, to elude detection by the magical world, there was still her own magic to consider. Her lessons so far had only served to confirm what she had been told in the Salem court, what felt like a lifetime ago; that her magic was dangerous. That without training the magic within her would pose as great a danger, not only to herself, but to those around her; and that risk to others wasn't something Buffy could ignore. No, she had to stay here and do what they wanted. Learn enough to control the destructive forces inside her.

The lessons themselves had been going… bearably to say the most. Besides animosity from teachers, she could tell that both Snape and Sprout were exasperated by her inability to remember conditions strange plants thrived under or obscure ingredients of potions and their uses. Although she did quite well caring for the plants under careful instruction, and could make a potion if given a recipe; it was just remembering the facts that bothered her. Her lessons on Transfiguration were, surprisingly, the ones Buffy did best at.

Once she had got past the very basics of how to use her power while doing the transformation, it all seemed to click, allowing her to reach, as her Head of House had proudly told a snarling Snape at the dinner table recently, the end of a first year's normal study already. That's what boredom will do for you. She didn't do much work the evening after hearing that, forcing down thoughts of how proud her mother and Giles would have been of her academic success, how Willow might have reacted, how none of them could ever know.

In Charms she was soldiering along at the pace Flitwick set her. She found it relatively easy to remember that when she said a certain word in the right way and waved her wand just so, she could make things happen; it was so much more interesting than trying to learn the dry facts in Potions and Herbology. Although sometimes things happened to a greater extent than was intended.

Buffy did well in the first few lessons of DADA, but due to her terrible work in Potions, Snape decided that it was better that in practice they concentrated on brewing potions, leaving her writing essays on gradually more and more obscure dark creatures and how to vanquish them, but with no practice of the latter. He seemed worried that if she was taught curses and counter-curses, she would use them against the wizarding world.

These assignments sent her delving into the school library. Buffy felt comforted by its familiar surroundings of stacks of books, though it was by far larger than the one at home; it's tens of thousands of books making the card catalogue extensive indeed. She had attempted to move her work down there, but when the horrified librarian told Professor McGonagall, was severely reprimanded. Evidently the Deputy Headmistress had no jurisdiction over the Ravenclaw common room, but would keep the rest of the school as tidy as possible.

During the day, Buffy might have been more or less limited to staring at a book, but once the sun went down it became far easier to elude the teachers. Her long nights in cemeteries had taught her how to blend into the shadows, and the staff themselves were less eager to spend their night time hours with her. Over time and a lot of mistakes, Buffy slowly learnt some of the idiosyncrasies of the castle; which staircases and corridors just ended in solid walls, the secret to open any door that might be hiding there eluding her. Also which of the doors actually opened onto rooms, more often than not containing strange objects or dusty classrooms, which lead to more corridors or passageways, and which doors were simply overconfident walls.

Back in the deepening night, Buffy paused as the curve of the lake approached the Forbidden Forest. She felt the familiar tug that always seemed to pull her towards its darkness. The craving to let herself go and use up some of the built up frustration that made her long for the fight to the death. That primeval feeling when all that prevents your death is your punches, kicks and skill. The thirst to battle, to use her body as the weapon it had been forged into.

This evening the pull was stronger than usual; the full moon rising from behind the forest shone down its silver light onto the trees below making beautiful night time shadows beneath the boughs that beckoned to her. She could sense the change in the amount of activity between the trunks, things of both night and day playing and hunting among the foliage. This night was the ultimate metaphor for slayers; the darkness that her most primal aspect sought in which to hunt, chase, kill, a craving that came from the core of the slayers power, and the light, the love of which is as inherent in all daytime creatures.

Buffy felt the signs that she had become almost used to; the signs of the start of a hunt. Her senses sharpened, the noises of the animals among the trees grew in her ears as did her sense of smell, detecting the moisture in the air that told her a rainfall was due. Her sight refocused to the darkness, becoming clearer as it adjusted to the gloom of the dull light. The nerves to her skin seemed to go into overdrive, sending an intensity of sensation unknown to most humans. As she felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she knew that it was now or never. All too soon she would no longer be able to resist the urge to hunt among the trees.

She glanced around, trying to spot prying eyes behind the bright windows of the castle. The glass merely reflected the image of the moon surrounded by clouds back at her, giving no indication of who might lurk on the other side. In a moment, she decided the risk was worth it and took off at a run, quickly disappearing into the shadows beneath the boughs. Buffy hadn't realised how much tension she had built up trying to control her powers until she released it all in a flat out run, dodging between the tree trunks.

She stopped in the depths of the forest, stilling to see if she could sense anything around her. To the east she could faintly hear the sound of hooves and heavy breathing. Deciding that the centaurs would be unlikely to have anything to do with her prey, she set off in the other direction in search of something to fight.

* * *

Sitting at breakfast the next morning she felt strangely elated and content. Most of the stress that had been building up in her was alleviated by that one night out hunting. The disappointment of finding nothing to slay, though she did meet an interesting amount of strange beasts among the undergrowth, wasn't enough to dampen her spirits. The slayer's energy that had been bottled up for so long no longer felt like it was overflowing within her, bursting to escape, if not through the normal route then by any means possible.

It was rare to see Professor Snape walk into the hall, his black robes bellowing out behind him as he strode down the centre of the room, but the shock of his presence turned into horror when he came up to sit beside her. He stretched past her to get a plate of bacon, a brisk, vaguely annoyed motion that suddenly stopped as his fingers touched the plate, eyes no longer on the food but focussed upon the pale scar that marred her tanned skin.

Just at the corner of her shoulder and neck was a mark that, to a man who had studied the dark arts and creatures as a passion, couldn't be mistaken for anything but the bite of a vampire. It had been hidden before now as she wore the school robes during lessons, covering her shoulders. How could she have failed to tell him in the lessons they'd had on dark creatures, that she'd survived an encounter with a vampire?

As these thoughts ran through his mind, he unconsciously reached out to the scar that was the centre of his attention. He managed to pull his hand away before he touched the girl, but it was already too late for him to hide his interest in the mark.

"How did you get that?" Snape's eyes bore into her accusingly. Buffy shuddered, not under his gaze but at the as she thought of the evening that the scar acted as a constant reminder for; the night she had died.

Dispelling the memories, she looked straight at the man, refusing to let him believe that he had intimidated her in any way "Angry puppy"

He looked at her in disbelief; his intense stare had often broken pupils resolve, but she refused to let him get to her, instead returning to her meal; pretending she didn't feel the flicker of something else in her mind, invading the edge of her thoughts.

"Where were you last night?" He asked out of the blue, trying to surprise a reaction out of her.

She stopped eating and looked up at him "What do you mean? I often miss dinner."

Snape sneered at her obvious distraction from the crux of the question "I mean; why was I roused at dawn this morning by the sound of you coming in from the courtyard?"

"I can't sleep, bad dreams, so I sometimes wander around" It was true; ever since her breakdown she had been having incessant dreams of Angel.

The dream was always slightly different, Angel would come to her and for a moment, in his cold embrace; protected by his strong arms, everything was right in the world. But it always ended with haunting words about death, with blood seeping out through the wound that she had made.

These dreams caused her to wake, lost and alone in the strange bed, and had driven her to late night walks or study sessions. It had become almost common for a house-elf to find her in the morning her head resting on a library book as she forced herself to work until she grew weary enough for a dreamless sleep.

"Then why did you have twigs in your hair?" Snape continued to enquire. Buffy looked down at her breakfast plate and pushed it away; she had lost any appetite in the midst of the Potions Master's eager questioning.

"I know it's meant to be unexpected, but when did breakfast become a time for the Spanish Inquisition?" She stood and made her way down the hall. Snape shouted after her in an almost gleeful tone.

"I need you in the Potions room at eleven, don't be late."

Buffy silently cursed as she shut the large door behind her. She wouldn't be able to avoid him by hiding in the castle. Of all the teachers, Snape seemed to have a disturbing ability to find her wherever she went. If she didn't know that all the house-elves were terrified of him, she would have suspected him of getting one to trail her. No, she was stuck with trying to remember potions for hours while Snape distracted her with questions.

Buffy trudged back to the Ravenclaw tower, grumpily flipping open a Potions book. If she was going to have to spend hours alone with that greasy man, she might as well spare herself the insults to herself and her country based on her intelligence.


	14. Clause 75

_Thanks to all who reviewed, __it's great that so many people seem to be enjoying this.__ Sigma1, pamie, ginger, Perfect Darkness, Shabopo, chicklepea, Allen Pitt, Sarah, LJoL, Creepy Draken, Goddessa, Oberon, TallieCat, otaku, Victoria, gylzgurl, __General Mac.  
_

_**Clause 75**_

Running down the corridor, Buffy skidded to a stop just before the open door of the Potions classroom. As much trouble as she would be in if she arrived late to one of her sessions with Snape, he would find it equally amusing to chastise her for running in the corridors. On entering the room, instead of finding the Potions Master pointedly glancing at the clock that would show she had missed all of five minutes of her torturous time in the dungeon, there was an empty room with a large pile of papers on the desk.

Walking over to read Snape's work, Buffy immediately regretted it. On every page of the heap of papers was an assignment Snape had set her, with a note on top of the bundle telling her that he'd been called away. Flicking through the sheets, Buffy almost wished he was still here. Each page held a list of questions on a different vampire.

Her sinking feeling grew as she found names she recognised on the pages; 'William the Bloody', 'Drusilla', 'Darla', Buffy felt her hands begin to shake as she turned to the next page. Knowing what was coming but not really wanting to believe it was true until she saw 'Angelus' written in Snape's neat, yet somehow awkward, script at the top of the page.

Buffy glanced down at the questions 'What part did Angelus play in the massacre of…', 'What set Angelus apart in his method of killing…' all the things she had avoided finding out about her lover's past set down in ink.

It was almost as much of a shock as finding out about Drusilla had been, except now Buffy had met the side of him that could commit atrocities she had before only heard him talk of. She had seen for herself how well he could lie to you with that beautiful face, then transform into the monster he truly was inside; shattering the illusion along with your heart.

She told herself that it wasn't Angel, he hadn't done these things, but it was still the hands that had caressed her which had enjoyed the bloody slaughter of thousands, still his lips that had both kissed and sucked the life out of countless lovers. Buffy saw his taunting face as he dared her to kill him, to cause the body she had worshiped pain, the look of love and disbelief in his eyes as he fell into the vortex.

No! She brought herself back to the present. Those things were past, dead, long buried. Angelus wasn't a problem anymore and Angel, Angel was suffering for his evil counterpart's crimes.

Buffy quickly stifled any emotion that rose at that thought. She couldn't let herself be found like this. If Snape had been here, as he had no doubt planned to be, when he set this work he could have found out everything. In her shock at seeing Angel's name he could have seen her every thought, all her mental walls had crumbled. She gathered up the rest of the pages from the floor, where they had fallen as she clung onto the only one that made a difference. Placing the questions on Angel at the bottom of the pile she started to the Library.

* * *

Later, surrounded by books that recounted centuries of history, from a wizard's view, of vampires, Buffy was beginning to get annoyed. She had looked up half a dozen different master vampires, each of whom had been alive for centuries, and found no mention whatsoever of slayers.

She may not have wanted the wizarding world to find out who she was, but finding that a magical community with full knowledge of vampires and demons completely ignored the existence of the slayer riled her in a way she hadn't expected. In retrospect Buffy realised she had hoped that, even though the Muggle world couldn't find out about how slayers put their lives on the line to protect them, at least the wizarding world would acknowledge and appreciate their work, would honour their sacrifice.

Finally she found a vague reference; looking up an obscure 15th century vampire led her to an old tome which by far outdated any of the others she had been reading. Whereas they had been relatively new copies of old books, some of which had been first written long ago, this was an original edition of a book that had, no doubt, long gone out of print. Signs of repair could be seen on the cover and a number of pages fluttered to the floor when she opened it. Scanning the scattered pages as she collected them together, Buffy was astounded to see that on one of the pages whole chunks of text had been blacked out and glanced warily about for the fierce librarian before reading. She didn't want to take the blame for vandalism done by long departed students.

_'On the night after the massacre in the town of Gualdo in Italy, there came to the township a champion of the people …'_ The next block of lines, presumably describing said champion and what she did in the town, for Buffy had no doubt that the _'champion of the people'_ was referring to a slayer, were all blacked out the next legible line reading _'… The Sect of Peccatori all perished that day along with their Master Calogero as did the town's saviour…'_ again the text was backed out. This wasn't random vandalism; the words concerning the slayer had been intentionally removed. She couldn't believe that these people had known about slayers and had chosen to get rid of the information, preventing anyone from recognising the battle young girls took part in to keep the world safe.

She glanced through the book that the pages had come from, intending to look for more similar passages, and found on the inside of the front cover the words _'Certain passages have been blacked out in accordance with Clause 75 of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy'_ and a date 1759. There was an international law that made them get rid of information on the slayer? Why would the wizarding world want to ignore their existence, she would have thought it would make them feel better to know that they were being protected.

Perhaps it was the guilt they couldn't handle. If they knew, they would feel obliged to help these children that protected them; sent to die for the safety of others. If you looked at it that way it didn't seem so strange. Who would want the reassurance of knowing you were safe, if it also meant you knew that out there, somewhere, there was a sixteen year old girl in the battle of her life, just so you could feel that way.

Buffy dejectedly returned to her work, finding the information she had initially been looking for. This, unsurprisingly, was riddled with sections blacked out in order to fulfil the requirements of Clause 75. She vowed to find out what was in that law, and how wizards justified leaving slayers alone.

* * *

For the next few weeks Buffy was left alone with her studies more and more as the teachers grew busier in whatever constantly took them off the school grounds. Snape and McGonagall were particularly elusive, merely popping in occasionally to glance at her pile of completed work and set more topics to research and write long scrolls on, occasionally asking for demonstrations of spells Buffy had been told to practice or samples of potions she had been asked to produce. This absence luckily left no time for Snape to cross examine her about her bite.

Flitwick was around far more often, but the Deputy and Headmaster's constant absences meant that he had to take on many of the jobs that would have normally be done by them and had little time for lessons. Bored by the lack of anything to do after weeks of hard study, and annoyed by her complete inability to find any further references to the mysterious Clause 75 in the library, Buffy decided to take matters into her own hands and get out from under everyone's feet.

She knocked lightly on the Ravenclaw Head's door, causing a startled shriek to come from inside. The door swung open to reveal the small wizard kneeling on the floor trying to collect back together a pile of papers which had fallen off his desk. Part of his problem was that the whole of the surface was covered in mounds of paperwork all teetering on the edge of collapse. Buffy knelt down to help and ended up putting the pile on the spare chair in the room, allowing him a very small space on his desk to work on.

"Sir… I was wondering… since everyone's so busy…" Professor Flitwick looked at her quizzically from under his bushy white eyebrows "couldIgotoLondon?" she finally blurted out her question. He paused for a moment, trying to sort out the sound into a sentence.

"I need some more clothes, and there's some…" Buffy trailed off as she saw her Head of House's amused smile.

"Of course you can go, Miss Summers, this isn't a jail you know. I'm sure you have many things you'd like to attend to before the term starts." He suddenly had an idea, and started rummaging through one of the heaps, knocking yet another to the floor. As Buffy knelt down to collect up the sheets, he found what he was looking for and proudly handed her a train ticket.

"That's for the Hogwarts Express, go to Diagon Alley for a week and come back on the 1st with all the other students. It'll be a good way to make friends."

Smiling at the very adult perception of teen relationships, all of her peers would already have tight groups of friends after years at the school, Buffy read the ticket "Platform Nine and Three Quarters?" she glanced questioningly at him; no station had quarters of a platform.

"Right, you go through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. It's a gateway to the wizarding world a bit like the Leaky Cauldron is to Diagon Alley. Just don't doubt that you can get through, otherwise you'll crash"

Buffy looked at the ticket dubiously, but decided that Flitwick hadn't had enough time to play a joke on her, besides stranger things had happened since she had entered the school.

"If you just go pack your bags, I'll get a carriage sent to take you to Hogsmeade."


	15. Spiked Drinks

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_**Spiked Drinks**_

Buffy wandered through the alleyways of trees, grateful for the peace and quiet which the light rainfall had brought upon the city. After having the whole of Hogwarts castle and grounds to herself for nearly two months, she had almost forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by the constant noise and motion of a vibrant city.

When she had first arrived in Diagon Alley, she had been unable to stay there, the influx of so many people every day forcing her to try and find less populated areas in the city proper. Unfortunately in the summertime, most of central London was packed with shoppers and visitors all enjoying the rare heat of the British summer, cramming Oxford Street and cooling off in the fountains at Trafalgar Square. Finally after four days of stifling dry heat, the weather had broken, driving the people, if not off the streets where they continued to shop and mingle in large masses, at least out of the large open areas of the parks.

She kept her visits to Diagon Alley short; visiting mainly in the evening or early morning as she tried to avoid the crowds. Spending most of the daytime asleep and stalking through the city at night, releasing her pent up frustrations on the numerous undead that hunted anonymously in the streets of the sprawling city. It was strange that so many vampires roamed the streets of London, considering that the city held the headquarters of the institution that waged war on their kind.

Perhaps it was a way for the vampire population to taunt the Watcher's Council. Buffy had certainly found a large proportion of older vampires hunting in the vicinity of a building that she found to be sporting a plaque announcing that it contained 'The World Headquarters of The Watcher's Council of Britain'. Maybe the rumours that the slayer was no longer under the Watcher's control had already spread this far. She had no doubt that the few remnants of Sunnydale's vampire population both knew of and was enjoying her absence.

Without the normal reduction in traffic and people, she hardly noticed as the overcast sky became darker with the setting sun. The slight change in the atmosphere as the less amiable occupants of the city, both human and demon, emerged to begin their nocturnal activities. Buffy had found hunting in London a lot more difficult than it ever had been in Sunnydale, although perhaps she would have had the same problems in any large city.

There most people kept out of the parks and alleyways after dark, knowing subconsciously that there was an evil in their town which could strike at any moment. Here a skulking figure in a darkened street could just as easily be a dealer or a gang member as a vampire, and was often both; she had found that vampires played a significant role in the underworld of the city, disposing of the addicts who couldn't get together the cash needed to support their habit.

As night once again fell, she heard the approach of a chatting couple nearby and ducked into the shrubs at the side of the path she had been walking along, unsure if these evening strollers were her prey or potential victims. The crunch of the gravel path beneath boots and slight squeak of wet leather stopped as they passed by the bush Buffy was crouching behind, her hand resting on a stake stored in her waistband. For a moment there was no sound to pierce the quiet of the night, none of them drawing breath, then she heard the sharp intake of a sniff and a low chuckle.

"Fe, fi, fo fum. I smell the blood of a nice ripe girl." Buffy almost laughed back, standing and moving out from her hiding place to face the vampires.

"You already used that line." She looked him up and down; exactly the same Spike that she'd fought in Sunnydale. She doubted he'd even changed his clothes. "No axe this time." She raised her stake.

Spike raised his eyebrow and looked mortified "I'm hurt slayer, and here I thought we were friends." The mock shock and innocence in his voice was ruined by his transformation into a vampire visage, hunger alight in his now yellow eyes as he approached, his gaze flickering to a point just over her left shoulder.

Unimpressed by his attempt to distract her, Buffy span away from him; kicking up as she turned to catch Drusilla on the jaw. Using the vampire's momentary disorientation from the blow, she pulled Drusilla's arm into a lock behind her back and pressed the stake against her chest. Spike's menacing face immediately transformed back into a more human one, his fearful gaze locked on the stake aimed at Drusilla's heart.

"Now, now, luv. No need for that is there. We can make nice."

Buffy took a step backwards, tightening her grip on the struggling vampire "Somehow I don't think you had anything I'd enjoy on your mind just now." She pressed the stake into the brunette's skin as Spike made a movement to try and free his partner.

"Come on slayer, we had a deal."

"Oh, I think we both fulfilled our sides of that bargain. You got your crazy vampire here, and I had the two of you out of the way while I saved the world. Thanks for your help on that front by the way." With those words Drusilla's struggling stopped; Spike's eyes widened in shock and he started gaping, trying to find something to say.

Drusilla somehow ripped herself out of Buffy's grasp, but her focus was no longer on the slayer as she stalked up to her lover. "You!" she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger "You betrayed us, betrayed daddy. Made a deal with… with that." her voice dripped with contempt as she spoke of Buffy "She's destroyed our family. Made it all fall apart." Her eyes glazed over and she began to tremble as her thoughts lost any sense of sanity.

Spike moved to hold her, trying to calm the irate vampire "No, hun. I did it for us. I did it for you" he held onto her, attempting to stop her shaking, but she had gone into her own world, quivering and rambling.

"… crumbling… turned to dust… all gone…"

The psychotic vampire eventually slowed her struggles and ramblings under Spike's calming gestures, but when Spike loosened his hold on her she struck out, gouging streaks of skin out of his cheek with her long fingernails, leaving behind bloodied lines. Looking at both Buffy and Spike in disgust, she turned and ran from the park.

"Dru, love. Come back." Spike ran off after her. Before Buffy could relax he was back, having failed to find the direction she had headed off in, his face vamped out and growling menacingly as he approached. For the first time that night, Buffy was truly scared. "Why did you have to tell her? Look what you've done!"

He advanced on her, beating her back into the undergrowth with his blows, using mere force to attack the slayer. That was the only thing that saved her that night. With his mind merely on causing her pain rather than on the intricacies of the fight, Buffy managed to use her skill to both avoid many of his numerous blows and occasionally slip past his non existent guard to beat him back slightly, using the force of his uncoordinated attack against him. A hard hit on her shoulder knocked her back onto the gravel, and before she could right herself, he was on top of her raining blows down onto her.

The sounds as he struck her slowly changed from angry growls and shouts to whimpers and his hits weakened. "Why aren't I enough?" he sobbed, reaching into his pocket for a flask and taking some deep gulps of the contents. "Why does she want _him_?" he half stood, half rolled off her; tripping over the hem of his coat and falling into a puddle on the side of the path. Looking down at his ruined clothes, he sat resignedly in the water and took another swig from his flask, offering it to Buffy.

She looked for a moment at the dull silver flask and attempted to get up from her own muddy seat, wincing as the injuries she'd just sustained made their objections to her movements known. Seeing her pain, instead of using it to his advantage, Spike forced the flask upon her. "Come on. It'll help you forget the pain."

Something in his manner made her take it. Perhaps it was the damp trail of blood coming from the gouges on his right cheek, maybe his unusually messed up hair, dripping in the rain and sporting twigs and leaves remnant of their fight, or the streaks of mud on his dark trousers and coat. More likely it was just the waves of agony that ran down her side with every breath she took, numerous broken ribs making their presence known.

* * *

Somehow this small meaningless gesture led to them sitting together at the bar of a small club at 5 am. Buffy nursing a drink she'd had for hours as Spike droned on about the pleasures and pains, though they seemed to often be intertwined, of living with Dru. She wondered why she hadn't found a piece of wood and staked him yet.

It wasn't just that she wasn't sure she was fit enough after the beating earlier, or that he was drunk enough, for her to kill him. She'd gone into fights before with no belief that she would emerge the victor. It was more that he was a piece of home that it didn't hurt to be near.

She didn't have enough memories of him for it to remind her of good times when he was near, so she could cope with his presence without an overriding urge to go home, to beg for forgiveness, for her mother, Giles to play the parent and tell her that everything was alright. That the pain would somehow go away, that the world could be right again without _him_.

The desire to go home had become more intense over the past few days, and being surrounded by so many people had only brought it into focus. Here she had no-one to laugh with, cry with, joke and shop with. Her distance had become both a blessing and a curse. It protected her from painful questions of her home life, but it prevented her from settling in this world, moving on after her previous friendships.

Buffy had, since arriving in London, picked up the phone so many times with every intention of calling home or calling Giles. Needing so desperately to hear the voice of someone she loved; to let them take up the reigns and bring back some semblance of control to her life, to just let the comforting sound soothe her nerves. She didn't have the courage to follow through; rarely getting past hearing the dialling tone and never completing a number, didn't know what to say. But this, just having the company of someone she knew from those times lessened the pain slightly without forcing her to confront her fears.

"Word on the street is, there's a new slayer in that damn country of yours." The words of Spikes monologue brought her out of her daze.

"What?"

"New slayer. She's meant to be quite a feisty one too. Always hungry for our blood" Spike suddenly cheered up and looked hopefully at Buffy "Do you think Dru'd come with me to kill her?"

Buffy looked at him blankly, shocked by the idea, Spike sighed "Oh yeah." He downed his drink morosely and shouted at the bartender for another "She's headed towards SunnyD anyway. I won't admit this again, but I don't want another run in with those tag alongs of yours. Damn persistent, they are."

"She's going to Sunnydale?" Spike stared at his new drink, as if hoping that the golden liquid would hold the answers to his problems. "Spike! How do you know that?"

He shrugged, almost unbalancing himself on the tall stool in the process "Headed from Boston towards the West coast. Where else would she be going? To LA in search of fame and fortune?"

There was another slayer going to Sunnydale. Part of her was happy that the guilt she felt at abandoning her friends to the night time activities of the town was alleviated while the other part cried that no, it was hers, they were hers, no-one else could have it. That was the side that thrilled as the adrenaline of a fight rose in her, the side that, as Spike had said, longed to see a vampire's blood; longed to see them turn to dust.

She tried to force down those thoughts, to just be glad that there would be someone there to protect her friends. Despite her jealousy there was still a large part of her that shied away from any idea of return, the part that couldn't forget the image of Angel's face disappearing into the vortex, that remembered her mother's parting words. That was the part that stopped her from calling Giles, still overwhelmed by it all.

In time it would fade, not that it mattered; there was no way for her to go back. The wizarding world wanted her here and wouldn't let her go. At least with another slayer they were all as safe as possible. Perhaps she could go back once she knew how to use her power without endangering anyone and would have yet another way to protect them.

Spike stumbled off his seat, heading of into the lightening sky to hide from the sun before its rays became harmful. Buffy followed him, sliding painfully from her own stool and limping out of the bar. As she made her way back towards Charring Cross she remembered; the book was arriving today. She would finally find out what the elusive Clause 75 was.


	16. The Chosen Guardians

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_**The Chosen Guardians**_

At nine o'clock, Buffy stood outside Flourish & Blotts. She fidgeted slightly as she waited, her naturally high energy levels preventing her from standing still until twinge of pain from her ribs halted the movement. She had used magic, a charm mentioned in one of the library books, to speed the healing of her bones even more than her slayer power would, but they were still not completely fixed.

She pushed the door open as the sign pronouncing 'Closed' magically flipped over to 'Open' and the lock clicked open. Upon entering, she went straight to the counter and interrupted the manager, who had his arms buried in a large crate, pulling out heaps of books entitled '_Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard' and his young shop assistant, who was arranging them on a shelf in the Defence section of the store. Waiting for them to serve her, Buffy idly flipped through the pages of the book.

"You Hogwarts?" Buffy nodded, her horror at the ideas contained within the book growing as she read a suggestion that _'Vampires are often harmless if unprovoked, though they should be avoided, and are the most human of the demon breeds'_ if too many people followed this book, there would be a sharp rise in the number of wizards dying from blood loss. "You'll need a copy then. We just got the new booklist; every student has to have one of these." He gestured behind him to more crates that were waiting to be unpacked "If nothing else, at least the yearly change in DADA teachers at Hogwarts adds variety to our stock. You might as well beat the rush tomorrow when the lists go out." he continued conversationally with a smile.

"Um… thanks." Buffy picked up the copy she'd been looking at and reached for her money. "I'm also here to collect a book; '_The Implementation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy during the 17th and 18th Century_' it should be saved for 'Summers'".

"Want to go into politics do you?" He chatted as he moved to a shelf behind the till and pulled out a large dog-eared book with a worn leather cover, luckily not seeming to need a reply to his questioning. "Yes, here it is. Out of print, you know. Quite hard to find…" He proudly related how he had obtained this copy of the book as he rang up the cost of Buffy's purchases.

Looking at the price, she was sure that this was far more than he had paid an elderly, retired member of The Wizengamot, whatever that was, but she doubted there was any point in complaining. Besides, she had that vault filled with more wizarding money than she could ever see herself needing, despite the slight dent it had taken in her stay. She paid fifteen Galleons for the books and took the wrapped packages to a secluded corner of the Leaky Cauldron.

Without an index, it was quite hard work searching for the relevant page of the book. The date of 1759 was the only clue Buffy had except the number of the amendment to the statute. Eventually she found the page that referred to the law she was interested in.

_'In late November of 1759, Clause 75 was added to the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy (1692). The breach of the Statute of Secrecy in 1757 and related global collaboration problems of the preceding decades gave the International Confederation of Wizards reason to change the boundaries of responsibility previously given to individual nations under Clause 73 (1750). Little is known of Clause 75, any information pertaining to it having been erased by members of the Confederation. It is known that the Confederation met with The Council of Watchers, a group formed mainly of Squibs wishing to aid the Ministry in the fight against the Dark Arts, during the Summit of '59. _

_It is thought that this group was given sole responsibility worldwide for a dangerous magical creature, the knowledge of whom to users of magic would be and has been disastrous. The idea that a dangerous creature had been given to Squibs and Muggles to control caused many complaints from the magical community, but the Confederation reassured the wizarding community that this creature was not dangerous in itself, only truly dangerous when linked to magic and that the Council was overly qualified to care for it._

_The Watchers Council, also now know as The Chosen Guardians, was given a generous grant by the Confederation, and has since broken all ties, including familial, to the wizarding world. Many Squibs still seek employment with the aforementioned organisation, but all who join must exile themselves from our community. Due to the nature of Clause 75 and the creature in question, there are only two copies of the Clause, kept by the Council and the Confederation. A wizard's involvement with the Council was made an offence in 1760, and a number of prominent journalists had their memories altered after attempting to obtain information on The Chosen Guardians.'_

The book then started a lengthy explanation how the death of Lord Stoddard Whithers in 1769, and subsequent escape of a large proportion of his flying horses was dealt with by the Ministry, resulting in a severe decrease in the population of Aethonan winged horses. Buffy skipped back to the only passage that referred to Clause 75 and read it over.

Though it did contain some information on the Clause, it didn't mention anything about slayers; in fact it was careful to not mention anything to do with the 'creature'. Without her own knowledge of what a slayer and the Watchers Council was; she wouldn't have known what the passage was about. Either the author truly didn't know what Clause 75 was, or he withheld the information to prevent his own book being censored.

It was a strange position to be in; as a witch it seemed she wasn't allowed to know about slayers and the Council, and in all probability, as the existence of wand wielding magicians had never come up in her training, as a slayer she wasn't supposed to know about wizards. Yet here she was a part of both of the worlds. It was lucky that the teachers hadn't found out what she was; no doubt they would have to send her back to the Council, back to Sunnydale.

Was the episode in the wand shop an example of the dangerous aspect of the slayer which seemed to so worry the International Confederation of Wizards? Why was knowledge of slayers so dangerous that it all had to be erased? It seemed that this book only brought more questions, not many answers. What had happened in the years running up to 1759 that made this Clause necessary. As it would doubtless refer to a slayer, all information about that aspect of the years would probably be censored.

The Council's status was surprising; she remembered her first Watcher, Merrick, proudly telling her that they had been guardians of the slayer line for thousands of years, and here was a book stating that they had been formed mere centuries ago. She flipped back earlier, looking for the information on Clause 73, which had been mentioned as a precursor to Clause 75, to try and deduce what problems they had encountered which required an amendment, why they had to add another Clause to cover slayers; eradicating all proof of their existence.

Under the chapters on Clause 73, she found the summation _'It is the responsibility of each nation to work to conceal the magical creatures living within their borders'_ obviously wizards had been unable to control and hide the presence of a slayer adequately, so the job was given over to the Council.

For some reason that didn't sound right though. If they just couldn't hide the slayers, why did anyone think that Muggles and Squibs could do it any better? With magic at their disposal, wizards should have been more than able to hide one girl, even one who fought vampires nightly. No, they seem to be afraid of not only the slayer, but also knowledge of her. Something made her dangerous to the wizarding world and it wasn't just her strength.

* * *

The next couple of days passed in a blur of hundreds of shopping school children and anxious mothers. The book lists for Hogwarts having been released late, it seemed that every student was visiting Diagon Alley to collect their required texts and any extra supplies. She had attempted to escape the influx of wizards by taking trips to Muggle London, but with the rainstorm passed; those streets too were once again filled with people.

Not wanting to run into the pair of vampires, that was now the only remnants of the Scourge of Europe, she limited her ventures out into Muggle London to daytime shopping sprees, spending the money in her vault with a speed and passion that would have been a welcome reminder of her normal self to any who knew her. Outside the shops, Buffy was as sullen and withdrawn as ever, seldom speaking to anyone else except when courtesy required it, and even then keeping all human contact to a minimum.

She spent the evenings when the shops had closed seated in a dark corner of the Leaky Cauldron, trying to avoid any curious looks and attempts at conversation from the other patrons by burying her nose in one of the large texts she'd purchased over her time in the alley.

Buffy had bought up books on the 1700's, trying to find any hints to the reasons behind the slayers segregation from the wizarding world, and had found a book that would, hopefully, make her less appalling at Potions and Herbology. It seemed to work through the concoctions in a less dry manner, highlighting the connection between the subjects and making the information imparted easier to digest and remember. With help, there was a chance she wouldn't completely fail.

The days seemed to pass by in a blur, and suddenly it was time to pack up her belongings ready for the journey back to Hogwarts. Buffy was looking forward to returning to her quiet refuge, her blood singing at the thought that it would be able to run free in the forest once more. Hunting in the parks of the city had been gratifying, but she had found nothing that fulfilled her dark urges in the same way that running free in the untamed forest sated the slayer's primal desires.

In her joyful thoughts of her return, Buffy had failed to remember that when she returned to Hogwarts, it wouldn't be alone, but in the presence of hundreds of students. That the common room would be bustling with hundreds of Ravenclaws, the grounds and corridors occupied by staff and students hurrying between lessons. Her trunk packed and ready at the bottom of her bed, she slept soundly, feeling well prepared for the day to come.


	17. Dreams and Steam

_Thank you so much for the reviews I appreciate every one I recieve  
_

_**Dreams and Steam**_

_She walked along the edge of the lake, pausing to watch the light play on ripples the squid made as the sun rose behind her over the Forbidden Forest. Tilting her face towards the light, she allowed the warming rays and the light breeze to caress her cheek. Buffy stood still, taking in the perfect moment, allowing the peace and quiet to wash over her._

_A pair of arms wrapped themselves around her waist, and she felt a familiar cold body press itself against her back. Contentedly she placed her hands over his and leant back against his strong chest, revelling in the closeness, in the smell of him on the air. Without turning she reached up to caress Angel's cheek as his head rested on her shoulder._

_"How did you find me?" She murmured in a tone that no human could have picked up, not willing to disturb the faultless tranquillity of the dawn._

_His reply was almost an inflection in the wind, whispered over the surrounding mountains "If I was blind I would find you"_

_She pulled his arms tightly around her, feeling his cool torso begin to warm from the prolonged contact with hers. Closing her eyes to treasure the moment, she whispered "Stay with me."_

_"Forever."_

_A contented smile settled on her face; the tension that hadn't been noticeable in her serene visage suddenly lifted, leaving her looking years younger, without the weight of the world weighing her down. _

_As Angel continued the inflection in his tone changed slightly "That's the whole point. I'll never leave." Buffy started to turn to look into the face of her lover, but he held her tight and whispered harshly into her ear "Not even if you kill me."_

Buffy jolted upright, surprised to find herself not in her large dormitory in the Ravenclaw tower, but in a strange bed, with the sound of traffic filtering in through a window left ajar. As she got her bearings, confused by the fact that she hadn't had that dream in the week since she had left Hogwarts, Buffy remembered; today she went back.

She looked out the window to find that, as had become normal after waking from that particular dream, the sun was just rising above the horizon. The first few times she had awakened from the lakeside dream, she had rushed down to the site of her dream, hoping that the realistic scene had really been a part of a vision, that she would find her lover by the shore of the lake. Over the past months, she had long given up on that particular fantasy, though she still had to fight the urge to scour the lakeside in the dawn hours after waking from her reverie.

Knowing there would be no use in attempting to return to sleep, she dragged herself out of the warm bed, wiping eyes that glistened with unshed tears, and finished sorting out her belongings ready for the journey ahead.

* * *

The barrier elongated and stretched around her; her mind trying to make sense of the images it was sent as she stepped through the solid object, the distortion of her surroundings making Buffy's stomach churn. Finally her vision gave a last stomach wrenching twist and the barrier changed to a wrought-iron gate, still slightly twisted in her peripheral vision. The air took on a more musty smell, a mixture of soot and steam, and a wave of hot air passed over her. A second later she was through, onto a long platform, and being waved away from the gate by a guard.

The noise on the platform was overwhelming. Not only was there the hustle and bustle of tearful goodbyes and joyful greetings, but also the clatter of trunks, the hoot of owls and the loud chugging of an engine. The sounds took on a slightly eerie feel, as the origins of many were indistinguishable through the steam that enshrouded both the platform and the train itself.

As she walked into the mist, groups of people began to emerge from the haze. Tall wizards and witches clothed in robes of random colours stood with children of various ages, all either in the plain black robes of the Hogwarts uniform, or in bizarre combinations of wizarding and Muggle clothing.

Buffy made her way down the platform, passing by a young boy clinging to his mother as she tried to disentangle him from her robes and get him aboard the train, trying to find a carriage that was quieter than the rest of the cluttered train. She spotted an empty compartment, and was walking towards it when a blond boy approached from the opposite direction, grasping the handle and poking his head in. "Come on, here's a free one" he shouted back at his friends, who appeared out of the steam carrying large trunks decorated in black and yellow and, seemingly, more broomsticks than people.

Though there was a free seat in the carriage, she didn't feel ready for the loud chatter on Quidditch, and continued wandering along the platform. As 11 o'clock approached, Buffy felt a shiver force its way down her spine and settle in the pit of her stomach. Looking around, she tried to locate the cause of her discomfort but was unable to see any obvious threats through the steam, she took a deep breath and centred herself; extending her senses to find the threat.

Buffy had never put much effort into developing this side of her slayer powers. In Sunnydale, she could use her knowledge of where the vampires hung out in and human intuition to locate her prey, but since moving to Britain she had needed to teach herself how to locate her enemies using only her senses to guide her.

Her trips out to the Forbidden Forest had been unproductive until she learnt how to not only identify locations of mystical creatures, but to use her delicate senses to tell the difference between the 'harmless' inhabitants of the forest and creatures that were her quarry. After many futile hunts, she had tried to reach inside herself in the way that Giles had repeatedly described in an attempt to impose the importance of this skill on her.

_She closed her eyes and forced all her senses outwards, hearing her mentor's teachings echoing in her head "Reach out with your mind. You have to hone your senses, focus until the energy washes over you" slowly she blocked out the irrelevant messages, the sound of her heart, the feel of the breeze against her skin ,even her sight in order to take in all of the things that inform her of her surroundings. Stretching out the sense that was only associated with the other part of her, the part that was primal and hungry for the fight, the slay. That was eager to feel the dust of a vampire burst against her face._

_She felt something above cross over her head and opened her eyes in time to see one of the creatures that had pulled the carriage she had arrived at Hogwarts in soaring above her, flapping it's vast wings in a seemingly careless manner as it meandered through the treetops. Shaking her head, she once again forced herself outwards, connecting herself to the slayer in order to find the things that do not belong._

Whatever was coming towards her now felt different to any of the creatures that she had encountered in the Forbidden Forest. In many ways it felt like a vampire; a blend of humanity and darkness, but it wasn't as cold, more human. Besides, despite the mist shrouding the platform, the sunlight filtering through the skylights was too much for any vampire to be on the platform and not burst into flames.

She looked towards where the slayer was telling her the quarry was, and found a large crowd of wizards milling about as the youngsters of school age bade their farewells to those that had come to say goodbye to them from the platform. She looked closer, amongst the group of students, who seemed to be predominantly red haired, stood a strange mismatch of adults.

The strangest was the man pushing a trolley piled high with trunks. His hair was lank and a dark powdery grey, hanging about a face covered in an assortment of scars. Where a faded wound cut straight through his eye from a gash that would have destroyed his sight, there was a large electric blue sphere occupying the socket; moving around seemingly at random. As she looked closer, it became obvious that this magical replacement for the missing eye was fixating on groups of people on the platform, a tall fair couple in ornate robes and their equally blond son, a band of sneering students.

The normal eye remained almost motionless in his face as he chatted to those around him, lazily following their conversations, but the other constantly roved through the people standing nearby. As its ferocious gaze approached her, not wanting to be caught staring, she looked away to the rest of the group. A gangly red-haired youth moved to one side and suddenly a sickly looking man, thin and pale, who she hadn't noticed before came into the centre of her view.

It wasn't that the rest of the world went out of focus, but somehow he stood out to her. Despite seeming weak in appearance, he was more alive; more _there_ than anything, anyone that made up his surroundings. Certain that this was the person that had alerted her senses, Buffy studied the man closer. There was something familiar in his ashen complexion, in the way he stood. Somehow alerted to her scrutiny, he met her gaze with tired eyes that conveyed a deep seeded shame, and she realised where she'd seen the exact same look before.

_She walked into the library and was about to shout out at her Watcher, when she saw the figure slumped over a pile of books at the desk. She turned to leave, training being impossible with another student in the library, when he looked up at her with an exhausted expression filled with remorse. Buffy was still not comfortable around him, he had only recently become part of their group and she was protective of Willow, even more so following recent discoveries, but her best friend would want her to make an effort. _

_Smiling warily at the werewolf, she moved over to the table and turned one of the books around so that she could read 'the werewolf bite swelled as the infection spreads through her body. I knew that she was now one of the things we hunt, but could not bring myself to…' Buffy looked up from the word and; Oz's eyes followed her movements as she walked around to sit opposite him. She skimmed down the page 'She could not live with the creature she had become; I found her the next morning after she completed the task I was unable to perform.'_

_She opened her mouth to speak, but realised there was nothing to say. He had just found out that all his plans for the future were no longer applicable, that he was one of the beings she was meant to hunt and destroy. All she could do was try to convey her sympathy for his plight. She knew what it was like to have something forced on you that would change your life for good._

Mad-Eyed Moody spotted a strange girl staring at the group he was guarding, and was about to move between her and the boy he was protecting, when he felt a hand on his arm. Remus Lupin was still looking directly into the compassionate eyes of the stranger that somehow knew and seemed to understand his affliction. He smiled wearily at her, then turned away and started to help the twins load the trunks onto the train

Content that the werewolf wasn't a threat, and knowing from her studies that wizards had potions which could help deal with the curse, Buffy turned from the strange party and made her way down the train. She finally found a seat in a compartment directly behind the impressive scarlet engine and settled down to while away the long journey.


	18. Pompous Prefects

_Just Me, Allen Pitt, Shabopo, The Statue, chicklepea, manticore-gurl071134, Slays, __Ginger, godessa39, __Chooser of the Slain - thanks for reviewing!_

_**Pompous Prefects**_

At precisely 11am, the noise of the engine changed slightly and with a slow creak of metal on metal as the wheels started to move, they were off. Buffy settled down in the corner of her compartment, and the gentle motion along with the repetitive, rhythmic noise of the train made her start to doze.

Just as she was approaching sleep, the door flew open and a tall, thin boy with white blond hair strode purposefully into the compartment, followed by a chunky boy dragging a chest, straining with the weight when ordered to place it in the rack above the seats despite his substantial muscle. As the blond boy turned to seat himself opposite his belongings, he started, finally noticing the occupant of the carriage.

After his initial double-take, he took a moment to inspect the girl, appreciatively following the lines of her toned figure with his eyes. Then the boy that had carried the trunk, slow in his reaction, grunted in amusement at the sight of the bossy boy jumping in shock. Admiration quickly changed to anger as the blond heard the indication of amusement. He turned as if to berate the large boy, before changing his mind and rounding on the girl sat in the corner.

"What are you doing here?"

Buffy's brow furrowed in confusion, unsure what exactly his problem was. Annoyed by his tone, she voiced her reply in slow deliberate sentences, intentionally patronising. "I'm a Hogwarts student. I'm on the train to school"

That earned another snort from the boy in the doorway, who clasped his hand over his mouth, sending worried glances towards his friend. Luckily the tall boy's attention was firmly upon Buffy, her fearless response having prompted another look of surprise before the blond's pale face flushed in anger, gritting his teeth. "This is a compartment for the Slytherin Prefects." He explained, mimicking her patronising tone in his response "As you are neither a Slytherin nor…" he looked disdainfully over her clothing, obviously not expecting to see the shining 'P' of a prefect's badge "a Prefect. You are allowed neither in this compartment nor this carriage."

He tilted his face slightly back towards his companion, but kept his pale grey, almost silvery eyes boring into Buffy's "Crabbe, did you realise there were any students above first year that don't know that the first two carriages are reserved for prefects? It's pretty obvious that this compartment is for Slytherins" He glanced back briefly with a sneering grin and the lumbering boy's face broke into an eager smile as he was finally able to let loose a snigger without risking a reprimand from his friend.

His steel grey eyes locked back on hers "You certainly don't look like a first year, though you're small enough, I suppose. Are you just slow?" He cocked one eyebrow, hoping to cause a rise in the face that looked up at him impassively.

Buffy smiled calmly up at him; an act that took an effort as she hid her seething inside. "I'd have thought anyone who has spent more than a day in the English wizarding world would know that Ravenclaws" she indicated her trunk which had the House crest emblazoned upon it along with her name "Are anything but slow witted."

His face lost some of its haughty grace as his anger rose, becoming blotchy as blood rushed to any part of his skin that wasn't pulled tight over his sharp bone structure. For a moment he looked liable to explode in anger; then something in what she'd said clicked with him and his eyed widened.

"You're not British! You're a damn American. No wonder you're joining so old. No doubt they had to give you the full amount of _their _education there to catch you up to our first years." He chuckled at his own joke, Crabbe quickly joining in behind him with a low grunting laugh "Now get out of here, or I'll dock points off Ravenclaw before you even set foot on school grounds."

Buffy stood and pushed past the blond, unwilling to reply with the slayer straining against her willpower, urging her to show this kid what she could really do. She managed to suppress her inner crowing at the scowls that graced both their faces as they realised, to their surprise, that the petite girl was not intimidated by either the tall boy's lanky strength or Crabbe's bulked muscle. After everything Buffy had been through these boys didn't make her afraid, annoyance on the other hand; that they easily succeeded in causing.

Angrily yanking her trunk off the overhead baggage rack, she only remembered at the last moment that she should not display her abnormal strength, especially to this obnoxious boy, and let the trunk crash to the ground. It landed heavily on one corner, slightly denting the wooden floor. Giving a mock heave on the handle, she dragged her belongings out of the compartment and along the corridor to the next carriage.

From the doorway of the compartment; a pair of silver eyes followed her path intrigued by the strange girl. When she gave the trunks handle one final pull, allowing the door to close behind her, he felt a strange sense of loss. Angry at himself for his lack of control, he sharply dismissed Crabbe and threw himself into a lounging position on the seat, allowing his thoughts to drift.

Letting herself into the nearest compartment with space, Buffy grudgingly admitted that the prefect had been right about the difference in décor. Here the seats, though no less clean or comfortable, were a simple black without the silver trimmings that had surrounded the plush green upholstery of the Slytherin Prefect's section.

The compartment Buffy had ended up in was filled with first years that halted their nervous chatter, looking up with large eyes when she entered. When she failed to reprimand them for any imagined misbehaviour and merely seated herself, closing her eyes to prevent them from attempting a conversation, they resumed their discussion. The train once again lulling her to sleep, she began to doze, allowing their subdued muttering to wash over her subconscious.

* * *

Buffy stirred slightly, unsure where exactly she was or what was forcing her out of her slumber. She felt a slight shaking on her shoulder and her hand shot up to catch the thing that was disturbing her sleep. In her sleepy state, Buffy didn't realise how hard she was clasping the offending arm, and it took a squeak of pain from the small witch to bring Buffy out of her sleep enough to release the girl.

"Sorry" she mumbled, not wanting to bring too much attention to the strength of her grasp "I don't like to be disturbed when I'm sleeping". The whole group flinched back as she drew her wand out from where it had been keeping her hair in a messy bob, and the girl was almost shaking when Buffy once again took her arm and, mumbling an incantation, tapped the wand against the spot she had griped, letting a flow of power leave the tip. Immediately the bruises, which had started to form a dark handprint, disappeared removing any evidence of her tight hold.

The student's stares changed from fear to awe. The Muggle raised were merely amazed by the demonstration, but the others were more impressed by the particular skill she showed. The ability to heal was a hard one to master; which is why training to become a mediwitch is such a long and arduous process. It can be easy to lose focus or control of your power and cause harm instead of healing a patient.

In order to hide injuries sustained during her trips to the Forbidden Forest; Buffy had needed to teach herself how to heal both minor and sometimes major cuts and bruises. Due to her slayer healing abilities she could leave some wounds to mend in their own time, but to prevent undue questions being asked, any cuts on visible areas of skin had to be healed before a teacher could see them.

Buffy turned to the girl she had hurt, a skinny little thing with flowing chestnut hair "Why'd you wake me up?" the girl looked around worriedly at her companions, wary of speaking up, and finally a boy sitting opposite her answered the question "A Prefect came around and told us to change into our uniforms."

"We're going to be at Hogwarts soon." Another kid piped up, overly excited by their impending arrival.

Nodding her thanks to them, Buffy grabbed her robes and headed off to change into them. As she walked back along the corridor, the squeak of breaks became more audible as the train slowed to a stop. When she returned to the compartment the other occupants had already disembarked, leaving her trunk alone on the rack.

The narrow platform was filled with students; their robes being whipped around them like huge black wings as the wind, tunnelled by the narrow path of the train tracks through dense forest, almost forced their movement along to the end of the platform. All the first years were directed to follow a Professor that Buffy had as yet not met; an elderly woman with short grey hair and a commanding attitude. Unsure of where she was meant to go, Buffy followed the older students who all headed off the platform to a rough mud track.

Along the lane were lined about a hundred coaches similar to the one she and Dumbledore had used when she first arrived at Hogwarts, pulled by the same winged beasts that she had encountered before. As Buffy approached, the skeletal necks of the Thestrals all twisted to stare at her; dark pupil-less eyes following her movement. An assortment of the students, the few who could see the beasts, turned along with them; trying to see what all the sinister creatures were looking at, but they could not to make out anything of interest amongst the crowd.

Buffy climbed into an empty coach. These weren't as elegant as the one she had travelled in before; and the air inside was slightly musty with an aroma of straw and mould, the seats slightly moth-eaten and, when it started to rumble along, it tilted slightly to the left at every other turn of the wheels.

Despite it's odd gait, the carriage steadily rattled through a pair of grand wrought-iron gates, the pillars either side topped by winged boars which loomed down on the students as if assessing their right to enter the school. These guardians were impressive in the dim light; their presence adding a sense of occasion as the trail of carriages made its way up the path to the front of the castle.

Since she had boarded the last coach leaving the station, the Great Hall was crowded when Buffy entered it, already the tables for each of the Houses were almost fully occupied. The students milling around chatting, along with the large increase in the number of candles that floated above the tables, gave the room a completely different atmosphere to the awkward familiarity Buffy was used to.

* * *

It was strange how such a large, open space could seem claustrophobic. Buffy felt almost boxed in when she found a seat at the well populated Ravenclaw table. She had taken one of the empty seats that seemed to radiate around the House ghost. The Grey Lady sat quiet and serenely at the centre of the table, her slim height allowing her to tower above all but the few sixth and seventh years that had already shot up to their adult stature. There was intelligence in her expression and, partially due to her height; she seemed to look down on those around her, reserved and unapproachable.

Buffy heard the students around her start to mutter under their breath, making wild and exaggerated guesses at who she was, where she'd come from and, most important of all it seemed, why she dare presume to be a Ravenclaw. Picking up on the movement at the end of the table, where most of the Prefects were seated, she decided to accept her fate and waited for the Head Girl to reach her.

The girl stood for a moment behind Buffy's chair, hoping to be acknowledged. When Buffy failed to pay her the attention she desired the girl cleared her breath

"Excuse me."

Buffy turned to find a tall girl standing behind her; her chest pushed proudly out, not to create the illusion of a larger bosom, but to make it impossible to miss the shining silver badge pinned to her chest.

"You don't mind if I sit here do you?" the girl asked, already taking the seat and turning to face Buffy with an eager smile that reminded her of Harmony, though she radiated an intelligence that Harmony could never have mimicked. A cross between Harmony and Willow, perhaps, scary thought.

Buffy suddenly realised that the girl was looking at her expectantly. "Oh… I'm Buffy, Buffy Summers" she smiled warily back at the manic grin.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Angela Delaney." she spoke her name as if it was a gift she was imparting on the recipient and offered her hand for Buffy to shake. Taking the hand, she returned the strong handshake with one that made Angela's eyes widen in surprise.

"Not meaning to be rude but…" Buffy almost snorted as she heard the words that so many busy bodies use to make it seem as if they aren't being unduly nosy "Why have you joined the school so late?"

"I moved to Britain." She was deliberately short and unhelpful in her answer, resigned to the necessity of the coming interrogation but unable to maintain any pretence of enjoyment. Apparently oblivious to this, the other students took it as a opportunity to ask her what they liked; bombarding her with questions.

"Where did you move from?"

"What year are you in?"

"When did you get sorted?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Luckily before Buffy could start to answer any of their questions the doors of the Great Hall opened, revealing Professor McGonagall and all the noise in the room quietened to a few whispers, which were quickly hushed by the Prefects of the respective Houses.


	19. A Hat and a Toad

_**Additional Disclaimer: **The Speeches made in this chapter were copied out of OotP all the rights to the Sorting Hat's song and the parts Copied from Dumbledore and Umbridge's Speeches belong to J.. Anything you don't recognise is probably mine._

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_**A Hat and a Toad**_

Professor McGonagall walked regally down the central isle with a trail of first years following behind her looking around themselves in wide eyed amazement at the cavernous room. One of them spotted the ceiling, so alike the sky outside that it was possible to believe that the hall was left open to the sky, and soon all of them were staring upwards at the magnificent ceiling momentarily distracting the children from the upcoming sorting.

When they reached the front of the hall the new students stood in line in front of the teachers table, facing out towards the other students and waited nervously while the Deputy Headmistress placed a stool in front of them. On top of the stool she put the hat that, only a couple of months earlier had placed Buffy in Ravenclaw. In the brighter light it seemed even more battered and frayed, though the students looked upon it with a kind of reverence.

For one long moment the whole hall was silent, all its occupants both staff and students fixated on the hat, waiting for something to happen. Slowly the hat started to twitch, shaking as you might to rouse yourself after a long sleep, then a rip near the brim opened wide in a yawning motion before the most surprising thing of all happened; it burst into song.

_In times of old when I was new  
and Hogwarts barely started  
the founders of our noble school  
thought never to be parted:  
united by a common goal,  
they had the selfsame yearning,  
to make the world's best magic school  
and pass along their learning.  
"Together we will build and teach!"  
the four good friends decided  
and never did they dream that they  
might someday be divided,  
for were there such friends anywhere  
as Slytherin and Gryffindor?  
Unless it was the second pair  
of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?  
So how could it have gone so wrong?  
How could such friendships fail?  
Why, I was there and so can tell  
the whole sad sorry tale. _

Buffy took a look around at her peer's reaction to the performance. Out of all the seated occupants of the hall, she was the only one to be surprised by the hat's antics. Evidently this was the normal way for the start of school to commence. The song continued, listing the attributes sought by each of the four Houses but did not conclude there. She returned her attention back from observing other's reactions to the singing hat, realising that the words of the song were important.

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony  
for several happy years,  
but then discord crept among us  
feeding on our faults and fears.  
The Houses that, like pillars four,  
had once held up our school,  
now turned upon each other and,  
divided, sought to rule.  
And for a while it seemed the school  
must meet an early end,  
what with dueling and with fighting  
and the clash of friend on friend.  
And at last there came a morning  
when old Slytherin departed  
and though the fighting then died out  
he left us quite downhearted.  
And never since the founders four  
were whittled down to three  
have the Houses been united  
as they once were meant to be. _

_And now the Sorting Hat is here  
and you all know the score:  
I sort you into Houses  
because that is what I'm for,  
but this year I'll go further,  
listen closely to my song:  
though condemned I am to split you  
still I worry that it's wrong,  
though I must fulfil my duty  
and must quarter every year  
still I wonder whether sorting  
may not bring the end I fear.  
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,  
the warning history shows,  
for our Hogwarts is in danger  
from external, deadly foes  
and we must unite inside her  
or we'll crumble from within  
I have told you, I have warned you...  
let the Sorting now begin._

When the hat finally quieted, applause broke out amongst the students along with frantic muttering. Though the hat singing had not been a surprise to them, the nature of the song had been strange to say the least. The warning that was evident in the song rippled through the hall adding more fodder to the active rumour mill.

Casting a stern glance around the hall, the Deputy Headmistress silenced the chattering students, before looking down at a long parchment in her hand and reading out a name "Abercrombie, Euan"

A small boy stumbled out of his position in line and warily picked up the battered hat. Slumping down onto the stool, he took one last terrified look at the hall and placed the hat on his head, its brim tilting forwards to hide his eyes from view. A moment later the tear in the hat's brim opened and it shouted "_Gryffindor!_" into the silent hall.

The table on the far side of the hall burst into applause and the shaking boy made his way nervously across the hall to take a seat at the table. The next child got placed in "_Slytherin_" and so it continued, Buffy clapping good heartedly along with her housemates when one of the new students were placed in "_Ravenclaw_". The numbers of first years looking around worriedly were slowly diminished to a mere dozen that huddled together to try to escape the individual scrutiny of the other pupils.

Finally, there was only one girl remaining. Buffy recognised "Zeller, Rose" as the girl she had been seated next to on the train and shot her a reassuring smile as the large hat engulfed her small head. Though it took the same time as the rest of the sortings, it seemed an age before she was finally put into "_Hufflepuff_", the anticipation of the feast ahead growing amongst the students.

While Professor McGonagall retrieved the hat and stool and strode out of the hall with them, Dumbledore rose to his feet beaming down at the students filling the benches before him. "To our newcomers" Dumbledore's booming voice filled the room, and he looked around at all of the first years, before finally settling his gaze on Buffy "welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

There was a resounding applause through the hall and when Buffy returned her attention back to her own table, she found that it was covered in plates of food, all giving off such beautiful aromas that it made her empty stomach rumble. Ignoring the fugitive glances her way and Angela's attempts at conversation, Buffy started piling food onto her plate.

Using her food as an excuse not to converse with her peers, Buffy looked around the hall as she ate. It had never before been so noisy; filled with hundreds of students, a full compliment of teachers and more ghosts than she had realised inhabited the castle. They shone misty silver where they floated above the students or sat at the tables. For some reason the whole place felt alien to her.

After being left more or less alone for months, wandering around the empty corridors, she was now forced into an environment where she was surrounded by bickering teens. Though she was of the same age as the oldest of Hogwarts' students she felt that in the past three years of being a slayer, and especially the past few months, she had aged in a way that had nothing to do with calendar years. The girls chattering good naturedly about the boys they had crushes on, the new school year, jobs they hoped to get after leaving; seemed stranger and more distant from Buffy than even the reserved British teachers had.

Realising that while she had been lost in thought, the girl seated next to her had been attempting to get her attention, Buffy turned to look at the exasperated face of the Head Girl. She affected a hurt tone as she repeated the question "As I was saying… what year are you in?" She looked expectantly at Buffy, who tried to ignore the fact that all conversation around them had died down as the students waited for her to reply.

She thought for a moment about the easiest way to get the gossip mongers off her back. It'd be easier if they didn't suddenly find out the next day that she was having lessons with 4th and 5th years, all of whom would be more than a year younger than her. If she just explained a simple version of the tale now at least she wouldn't be thought of as stupid. Buffy felt her anger once again rise at the thought of that boy on the train. What reason did he have to be so objectionable? Weren't prefects supposed to help and mentor other students? She only hoped they didn't share any lessons.

Turning to face the obnoxious girl, she relayed her story "Um… I'm not really in any year. I'm gonna be taking classes with a couple of the year groups and take my OWLs at the end of the year. " Before Buffy could continue one of the girls across the table, who looked to be about sixteen, blurted out "But why?" When Buffy looked up at her she flushed bright red, but kept her gaze firmly and unapologetically on her.

Keeping her eyes on the girl as she replied, Buffy continued "I only found out I was a witch a couple of months ago when I accidentally performed some magic." No-one within earshot was even attempting to keep up the illusion that they weren't listening now, shocked by the idea of a girl who, age wise belonged in a NEWT class, not knowing about her powers. "The Bureau called me in and tried to charge me, but as I'd never known they let me off and told me I had to qualify from a school." Deciding to leave out her reasons for moving, she merely concluded "I was moving to London so I was sent here."

"But why didn't you get a letter at the right age?" the girl across from her asked as more questions came in from every direction.

"When did you get sorted?"

"How're you going to catch up all that work?"

Deciding to answer the girl, who she noticed was sporting a prefect's badge, first; at least she had vaguely been a part of the conversation, not merely interrupting "I found out at the trial that I did, but my mom just took it as a joke, I guess, and ignored it. One of the witches said something about a new system where they visit Muggles to make sure they don't think it's a big prank."

The boy seated next to the Indian looking prefect opposite, who also bore a prefect's badge, piped up at that "That happened to me too!" Suddenly becoming the centre of attention seemed to shock the boy, and he stammered slightly as he continued "Uh, I got the letter and my parents just laughed it off. 'Bout a week later McGonagall came round and gave a demonstration." He paused for a second "Me mum fainted when a grown woman changed into a cat right in our living room! I think they believed it after that. I'm here ain't I?" The timing was perfect, and he grinned as his peers cracked up around him.

He leant across the table to introduce himself as chatter about parentage continued around them Buffy forgotten as, if not old, at least less mysterious news. "Anthony Goldstein. I'm a 5th year so we'll probably be in some classes together." He indicated the girl next to him "This is Padma." Buffy shook his hand and flashed a small smile at Padma "Buffy."

Just as he was about to say something else, she saw Dumbledore get to his feet out of the corner of her eye and, almost instantaneously, the Hall went silent.

"Well now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students." Buffy had to stifle a sigh. If they were keeping an eye out for wayward students it would make her explorations in the Forest harder than they had been previously. Buffy wasn't sure, but she thought Dumbledore's eyes settled for a moment on her as he continued "and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too."

Her brain started working as fast as she could run. If he knew she went out into the forest did that mean he knew that she was a slayer? This was a magic school after all; there could be a million ways to know where people were. But if he knows, why hadn't he called her up on it?

Her concentration was forced back to the teacher's table when Dumbledore's speech was interrupted by the woman seated beside him clearing her throat and rising to her feet. She was almost toad-like in appearance; with a pale broad face, bulging eyes and no neck whatsoever.

Dumbledore looked at her for a moment, shocked by her actions and apparent intention to make a speech of her own, then quickly sat and looked up at her; the image of a rapt schoolboy waiting for her to speak. The rest of the staff were even more thrown by the intrusion and many of the students muttered at her actions, though most were smirking at Dumbledore's reaction to the woman.

"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome" Her voice was high-pitched and, in contrast to her obvious age, sounded almost girlishly breathless. Not content with the attention being paid her, she cleared her throat again "_hem, hem_" and waited for silence before continuing "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts…" Hearing the tone it was painfully obvious that she was going to be talking for a while and Buffy started to zone out.

It was a skill that all teenagers had, but Buffy had perfected it in her years working with Giles. Being able to drift off into her own thoughts, while a conversation went on or orders were issued, yet still able to summarise the important points and repeat the last sentence when challenged. As she stared ahead a flash of white-blond hair caught the corner of her eye and she turned to see the boy from the carriage staring fixedly at her.

Hoping he'd be embarrassed by being caught, she made it clear that she knew he was watching. A mocking smile spread slowly over his features which, when they lost some of their puppy fat might be chiselled enough to pull off the expression. Put out, Buffy shot a look his way that had sent more than one vampire ducking for cover amongst Sunnydale's gravestones. Unfortunately it seemed that the look only had an effect on people that knew she was a force to be reckoned with, and the boy merely raised a delicate eyebrow in amusement.

Infuriated by his arrogance, Buffy looked away and took up one of her favourite nightly pastimes. Staring up at the enchanted ceiling didn't quite have the same resonance as lying on the damp grass in a graveyard to look at the stars but here, away from the light pollution that a city created, there were far more stars in the sky to lose yourself in. She had loved stargazing since she was a child and could spot and name any of the major constellations.

She was brought out of her stargazing by the sounds from all around her as the students prepared to leave. A glance at the top table confirmed that speech had finally ended. Quickly gathering her things, she joined the students clamouring to leave and was soon lost in the throng.


	20. Meeting Delores

_Chooser of the Slain, Shabopo, jumping-jo, gabrieldarke, General Mac, Allen Pitt, Pamie884, Susan, Ciara Hideaway, Slays, Anne, sparky24, Rebecca Pierson, light-hearted69, Jenna Summers, Just Me, Ginger, Littledrusilla - thank you for all your reviews_

_**Meeting Delores**_

Having managed to get into her dormitory before any of the others returned, Buffy was able to fall asleep quickly. However as she was used to sleeping alone, upon hearing the slow breathing of deep sleep from the other girls sharing the dormitory, she woke up and found it impossible to return to sleep.

In a normal atmosphere she would have had no problem sleeping in spite of the others nearby, but with the overriding air of magic that surrounded Hogwarts and the closeness of the Forbidden Forest; the slayer in her was alert almost constantly. Not letting Buffy ignore any alterations in her living habits. Finally giving up on falling back to sleep, she flung open her trunk and, grabbing a text book at random, headed downstairs.

The next morning she awoke to see a small house-elf at the fire she had decided to seat herself in front of. It, for it was hard to tell the sex of the elusive creatures under the strange garments they wore, was rebuilding the fire so that it would have warmed the now chilly common room before the students descended the stairs for breakfast. When she stirred the elf turned and started, bobbing as it made its apologies for disturbing her.

Managing to reassure the creature that she had merely woken due to the uncomfortable position she had slept in and hopefully dissuading it from its threats of harming itself as punishment, she stood and stretched; feeling the cracks in her joints as they protested her having slept curled up in one of the Ravenclaw common room's hard armchairs. Feeling well rested despite the discomfort of her sleep in the chair, she picked up the text she had been reading from where it had fallen onto the floor, and settled down at one of the tables to read by the light of the newly risen sun.

When her classmates finally started tricking down the stairs from the dormitory, she was engrossed in the book, scraps of parchment covered in scribbled notes lay both around her and stuck into pages that seemed to be significant. Over the past two months Buffy had developed both a work ethic and a method of study that would have made Willow proud. Her willingness to take time to study the subjects was initially due to her isolation, but after overcoming the first steps of using and understanding her magic, she had begun to enjoy learning subjects that came so much easier to her than the bland academics of Muggle education.

Packing up her books Buffy decided to head out to breakfast early so as to miss the rush and, hopefully, any more questions from her peers. Walking past Professor Flitwick's office, a squeaky voice called out to her through the open door.

"Miss Summers, I thought that was you. I just wanted to go through your timetable with you before breakfast."

Buffy smiled at the small man who, along with Professor Sprout, was the only member of the Hogwarts faculty that seemed to accept her at face value. The other staff she had met over the summer were still wary of her and Snape had been eyeing her suspiciously throughout dinner the previous evening. He definitely hadn't forgotten their last confrontation.

Flitwick searched through the scattered paperwork on his desk, finally handing over a piece of parchment triumphantly. "As you see, you have lessons with both fourth and fifth years in the subjects that you have been studying so far. We tried to have you with your housemates for most of the classes, but due to clashes, we have had to put you with the other Houses for some of your lessons. You have some blank periods where we could not place you in an appropriate class. You will be expected to use this time to continue with your own study. You also have extra periods after dinner to help you catch up." He looked up at Buffy and asked "Is that all clear?"

As his odd voice rambled on, Buffy looked over the sheet; she knew she wasn't up to 4th year standard in most of the subjects, excluding perhaps Transfiguration and Charms. She definitely wasn't ready for 5th year Potions; a fact that Snape would no doubt remind her of snidely during the lessons. She returned the Professor's cheerful grin with a wary smile, and headed on to breakfast when he waved her out of the room.

Cutting through some passageways that seemed as unused now as they had been over the holiday, Buffy still managed to make it to the hall before most of her housemates and took a seat away from the scattered groups already seated there. Quickly eating a filling breakfast, she wandered up to the library and started browsing through the titles, looking for anything on the vampires and the breach of the Statute of Secrecy in the 1700's, anything that might lead to information on the reason behind Clause 75.

When the bell finally rang at 9am, she gathered together her books and headed down to the first floor, taking a shortcut down a rotten flight of stairs that was empty as no-one but a slayer would attempt to use them, and arrived, slightly breathless outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Buffy entered as the class was droning out "Good morning, Professor Umbridge" to the delight of the toad-like woman, who turned to shoot an angry gaze her way as Buffy entered.

"You will knock before entering my classroom, and wait until I ask you to enter" Buffy tried to stop her teeth grinding at the sickeningly sweet sound of her voice which couldn't be completely eradicated by the anger in her tone, and merely replied "I'm sorry, Professor."

The woman smiled, obviously still enjoying the power that her title gave her and looked more kindly at her "Now, child, what is your name and business?"

"Uh…" she looked around at the class that were trying to hide their interest in the girl that had barged into their class "Buffy Summers, I was told to join this class." At her name, Umbridge's eyes lit up and she looked at Buffy with a new interest. "Yes…" she murmured, "I've heard about you." she looked at her slightly more sharply and berated her "In future you will be seated silently in this classroom when the bell rings, is that understood?" she looked with her bulging eyes at the rest of the class "That goes for all of you, understand?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge" the class replied.

"Take a seat, Miss Summers. We were just about to start. Wands away, quills out, please class." Buffy sat in the only available seat, at the front of the room and groped in her bag for a quill and parchment. Behind her she could hear the whispered comments of her classmates as they attempted to work out why they had a Ravenclaw in their class. It sounded like by dinnertime her explanation to her House was going to be all over school. Buffy sighed, it was hard to stay out of the gossip mill when she was a new student with such a strange schedule.

"As I was _saying,_" Buffy looked up to find the large eyes fixed on her, and she hastened to write down the points on the board "the problems caused by your recent Professors will be rectified with a new Ministry-approved course. Now if you would all turn to page five and read Chapter One of Defensive Magical Theory, Basics for Beginners" as a quiet chatter started up amongst the students she snapped "There will be no need to talk"

The class sat quietly, and Buffy attempted to read the tedious chapter as they all listened intently to the slow and purposeful ticking of the clock that adorned the wall at the front of the class. Buffy could hear the slight rustling of notes passing between students from behind her, and spotted Umbridge searching for the students responsible. Halfway through the lesson, Buffy saw Umbridge angrily fix her gaze on a point behind her. Turning, she found that a curly haired boy had his hand raised and was looking intently at the Professor.

When she acknowledged him, intimidated by her stare, he stumbled over voicing his question "Professor… I was just wondering… When are we going to practice spells?"

"Your name is?"

"It's just it doesn't say anything about it on the board."

There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class, evidently they had been discussing this question and had nominated this boy to be their spokesman.

"_Your name._" Umbridge glared forcefully around the class to silence them and then fixed her bulging eyes once more on the boy.

He blanched under her gaze. "Justin Finch-Fletchly."

Umbridge nodded "Do you think that a situation will arise in this classroom where you will need to use a defensive spell?" he shook his head silently; she looked at the rest of the class "When I ask you a question I expect you to reply."

"No, Professor Umbridge."

"There's no reason for us to be using spells, is there?"

"No, Professor Umbridge."

"Well then." she waved at them to continue reading and sat down with a self satisfied smirk plastered on her face. Although she seemed unaffected by the rest of the class gazing into space in boredom, she sent an angry look Buffy's way until she went back to staring unseeing at her book.

The students all gratefully shut their books when the bell rang to signal the end of the class. Umbridge called for 'Miss Summers' to stay behind in the classroom, and moved around in front of her desk to stand before Buffy while the Hufflepuffs filed out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind them, Buffy heard a sudden blast of conversation as they all spoke indignantly about their new teacher.

"_Hem hem_" Umbridge forced Buffy's attention back onto her and stood with her hands clasped in front of her dreadful pink cardigan. "I wanted to talk to you about how your education's been going so far." She started in her deceptively sweet tone "As you may know, I was Senior Under-secretary to the Minister before I took this position, and he specifically asked me to check up on you. How did your lessons go over the summer?"

"Uh… fine." Umbridge glared at Buffy until she added a belated "Professor."

"So your teachers were around the whole summer to help you with your work?"

Buffy frowned, unsure of the reason behind the questions "Well… no, I had a few practical classes with the Professors, but most of the time I just worked through the stuff they assigned me by myself."

Anger flickered for a moment over Umbridge's features before she forced them back into an endearing smile, but her voice was slightly harder when she continued her questioning "You don't know when the staff were here over the summer then? What about mealtimes?"

Buffy shrugged in a way that seemed to only anger the fuming woman more "After a while I stopped eating in the Great Hall." She thought grimly back to the meal that had caused her to stop eating with the teachers, but before Umbridge could question her pause continued "I just went to the kitchens and asked for food when I was hungry." The house-elves seemed to love the opportunity to wait on her properly and had no qualms about telling her how to get to the kitchen, in fact one particularly helpful elf, who dressed in clashing coloured clothes instead of old pillow covers, had shown her some passageways that made handy shortcuts.

Umbridge stared thoughtfully at Buffy, who merely smiled back at her. She may not like all the staff, especially Snape, and most of them were wary and suspicious around her, but she definitely preferred their honest emotions to the syrupy persona that Umbridge attempted to portray.

The bell signalling the end of break rang and Buffy shot to her feet, grabbing her bag. "I'm sorry, _Professor_, but I have to get to my next class." With that, she rushed out, leaving Umbridge gaping after her.


	21. Uses of Wormwood

_**WordCount :**- 38,497_

_**A/N :**- I'm really sorry about the time it took to update. Exams, Illness and far too much Rowing ate into my time too much and I'l like to thank those reviewers that gave me a kick to keep on going. My main problem is that I cant seem to get this chapter into a form I like... anyway here it is. Definately not my best work, but hopefully it'll let me get on with the rest. If you think its too OOC let me know and I'll try and revise it again/ get rid of it... anyway. Just to let you know I'm back._

**_Uses of Wormwood_**

She crept silently into the greenhouse so as not to disturb the spiel Professor Sprout was giving the class on the importance of the coming year and the exams they were to take at the end of it. Slipping into a space on the side of the greenhouse occupied by Ravenclaws, she found herself looking up into a pair of emotionless grey eyes.

The greenhouse was split into two with a long plant bed running down the centre. Though the two houses that shared this lesson had carefully chosen opposite sides of the plants to find a workspace; the start of autumn decay meant that the screen between the houses, which would be lush and impenetrable in spring, now had gaps through which the Slytherin students could sneer at the row of Ravenclaws.

Having heard many speeches on the importance of the exams she 'presumed' to take at the end of the year, she felt no need to pay attention to the Herbology Professors seemingly cheery warnings to the fifth years of her expectations. Though she seemed far more laid back than, for example, Professor Snape; chatting to her over the flowerpots had revealed that she had just as strong a reputation to uphold in her pass rate, and was determined to keep it impeccable.

"This year we will be looking in close detail at things that often come up in the OWL, for example…" most of the class listened, most with a slightly dazed expression as the lecture continued.

Instead, avoiding the glare that was being sent at her through the plants, Buffy took the time to look around Greenhouse four. Though she had befriended the portly professor, she had still not been allowed in areas of the Professors realm beyond the ones that students of her ability were normally admitted to, so after finally being allowed into one of these forbidden areas, she looked around eagerly. The plants in the section they were standing in weren't particularly dangerous, stronger breeds of the plants she had already covered while going over the work for the first three years.

"There are many plants here that are dangerous. Before you will be allowed in the southern end of the greenhouse I will have to agree that your essays on the plants in question and safety procedures to be taken around them are up to scratch."

Looking past the fence that, though only shoulder height, effectively split a third of the greenhouse into a separate section, she noticed some of the plants that had sparked her attention in her potions classes, a particularly strong breed of hellebore, the softly spiked leaves of which could render an elephant unconscious.

She was forced out of her observations by the movement of the class around her as they went about whatever task the professor had set and a sharp shout of surprise when Anthony turned to find her standing a few feet away from him.

"When did you come in? You'll need to let Sprout know you're here. She's marked you as absent" he said as they picked out pots and small bags of dragon dung fertilizer from the shelves under the plants.

Returning to her space she found herself once again being observed through the green screen that halved the classroom. When she met the eyes of the insulting Slytherin, he smiled languidly at her not attempting to hide the hunger in his eyes as they slid over her petite form. Frowning as she turned away from the intrusive stare, she looked back to the plants they were re-potting and harvesting. "I got here as soon as I could, but I got kept behind by Umbridge."

"You've had DADA already?" Padma exclaimed loudly from her space not far away eliciting a reproving look from Professor Sprout. She blushed as her classmates turned to see what the commotion was about and moved closer to Buffy and Anthony "What's Umbridge like?"

Buffy sensed the attention of the surrounding students still focusing on their conversation and tried to keep her voice down so as not to anger Sprout further by distracting her class. "All we did was read through the text book." Padma emitted a derisive laugh making Buffy smile, obviously someone else had noticed the pointlessness of their text "From the sound of it that's all we'll be doing. The Professor was really put out when someone asked when we'd be practising the spells."

"What d'you mean?" concern started to tinge Padma's tone as she thought of how an inadequate teacher in this year could effect not only their grades but their job opportunities.

"There won't be a situation in class when you need to use spells, so there's no need to practice." Those around her that could hear sniggered at Buffy's exaggerated imitation of Umbridge's sickly voice, managing to sound even stranger with the hint of an American accent that Buffy couldn't keep out of her tone. The only person who didn't seem to find amusement in her statement was Anthony, whose brow crinkled in a frown of worry.

"But how are we supposed to pass the practical if we never practise the spells? She's gonna make sure our entire year fails their…"

"Mr Goldstein could you please save your discussion until after class?" Anthony's outburst, which had slowly increased in volume as he grew more agitated was stopped by the Herbology Professor appearing behind the group of Ravenclaws. She turned to fix her stare on Buffy "It's good to see you've arrived Ms Summers, but considering your problems catching up the work, I hope you'll pay closer attention in class in future."

Others around them that had been listening in on their conversation had turned back to their work as soon as the Professor spoke making themselves look busy so it was Padma, Buffy and Anthony who were left blushing as they bore the brunt of Sprout's ire. Mumbling their apologies they returned to their respective plants, their embarrassment heightened by the muffled sniggers that could be heard from the Slytherins through the green screen.

Taking up a knife, Buffy reached to harvest some of the half formed fruit that contained the active ingredient of the small wormwood cuttings. Before she could make a cut with her blade she was interrupted by a derisive laugh.

"You're cutting it too close to the fruit. You need to take it off right at the stem." The grey eyes through the plants were shining with the amused scorn that his voice dripped with.

Buffy shook her head, discounting the boy's help as one of the Slytherin tricks she'd heard her housemates warn the first years of "To make an infusion they'll need to be dried and cut as close as possible to the fruit." She saw both surprise and admiration at her knowledge of the plant cross the boy's face and a strong flash of the lust that he had never attempted to hide, obviously seeing it as his right to look on any woman in such an objectifying way, before it returned to its carefully schooled distain.

"True, but these are to be used fresh and need to keep their moisture as long as possible. You might want to listen closer to the instructions next time." The patronising mocking that seemed to cloud his every sentence had returned. Suspicious of help from someone that had been so insulting Buffy glanced through the plants at his own harvested fruit and was surprised to see that he had cut it off the stem as he'd described. Her thanks for the help came out louder than expected with her shock at the sincerity of his help.

With the attention of those on both sides of the greenhouse drawn to the quiet discussion a sneer of disgust once again crossed the Slytherin boy's features "I just don't want to get marked down in potions later when I have to make _deep-numb_ with wormwood fruit inferiorly harvested by ignorant Ravenclaws." He turned to the lump of a boy that had been with him in the carriage, continuing in a stage whisper that was meant to be heard by all around them "And I thought Ravenclaws prided themselves on their intelligence." He somehow managed to make a snort of disbelief sound refined and fixed his gaze on the plant in front of him.

On the way out of class Buffy failed to notice the put out look on the Slytherin's face when she failed to meet any of his surreptitious glances in her direction or even, it seemed, give him a second thought. Any of the Slytherin girls, hell, most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws would have been delighted to receive half as much attention from the only son of such a prestigious family. He'd rarely been denied anything he wanted and no colonial witch would be allowed to ignore him.

"How do you know Draco?" Buffy turned to see Padma and a group of the fifth year Ravenclaw girls walking briskly to keep up with the slayers fast pace as she made her way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Draco?" Buffy asked, not remembering having been introduced to whoever these girls were talking about.

"Mr Tall, Blonde and Insulting" said a short mousy haired girl "Our resident Slytherin Prince"

"Oh, you mean the Pervy Prefect? He chucked me out of a carriage on the train. Seems determined to find faults in everything I do."

"Pervy?" Padma asked as the others giggled at the idea that anyone would dare use that phrase to describe the stuck up Slytherin.

"Yeah… he seams to treat any woman like they're his personal property to ogle at. I'm sure I haven't encouraged him."

This bought out another round of laughter from the girls who obviously enjoyed the ease at which this stranger insulted on of the most powerful boys in the school.

Finally containing her mirth, Padma tried to speak more seriously "You should look out for him. His family's not one you want to be on the wrong side of. Especially now." Some of the girls sent pointed looks at Padma at her last comment and the conversation trailed off for a while with Buffy unwilling to ask about what was obviously a delicate subject.

Padma broke the conversation with a derisive laugh "I doubt he'll still be so keen on you when he finds out you're a muggle born. Slytherins only like pureblood wizards."

"It won't make a difference. I'd never go for someone like him." Buffy thought of his barely covered lust and arrogance of his own importance; trying not to compare him to the man she had loved. That train of thought only lead to tears.

"_Do_ you have a boyfriend? Back home, I mean?" one of the other girls asked, eager to find out more about the new girl while she seemed in a talkative mood.

It was strange that after all this time and all the pain that Angelus had put her through, her first, instinctive answer was still "Yes" followed by the adoring smile that belongs only to young lovers crossing her face. For a moment she could forget. Then the image of Angel would come into her mind, and even now it was impossible for her to see the face of her love without remembering his last moments he'd spent in this dimension. Buffy faltered, stammering slightly as the memory that haunted her dreams returned once more "I… mean… no." she looked around at the kind and curious faces, for a moment hating the girls around her for bringing up this subject. "He died. Just before I moved here." Unconsciously she started to rub her fingers over the spot that a ring would sit on her finger and murmured to herself "If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here at all."

That was a frightening thought; she would be relaxing in her living room with the Scoobies, or researching in the Library either way, no doubt laughing over something with her closest friends, not surrounded by strangers. If it hadn't been for Angel… the past two years wouldn't have been worth living, and she doubted she would have lived through them, with the number of times he'd saved her or helped her out. No. There was no use going over the blame again. What's done is done, and here she was.

Her questioner watched as she came back from whatever place she had been inside her mind, and stuttered an apology. Forcing a smile onto her face, Buffy stopped their apologies "Don't. There was no way you could've known." Regardless, they fell silent, not sure how to continue that conversation. Buffy looked down at her hands, realising finally that they were moving of their own merit, caressing the finger onto which Angel had placed a Claddagh ring on her Birthday, heart pointing towards her to show that she belonged to someone… to him. Looking at the bare flesh of her ring finger, she felt a twinge of remorse. Angel may have been sent to a place where he would be eternally tormented, but she had no doubt that he still 'belonged' to her. That he still acknowledged his love for her.

In fact, Angelus had still worn the symbol of affection even after they had discovered his true identity, though she couldn't know whether this was merely a way for him to heighten his malicious joy in tormenting her or meant that in some way even the demon that inhabited the body of her love felt the force that drew them together. Guilt rose in her stomach as she remembered the last image she had of Angel, the one that haunted her dreams so often.

_He reached out to her, with a mournful and disbelieving expression on his face; unable to believe that it was Buffy that had thrust a sword through his stomach._

This time the hand outstretched towards her became clearer, the Claddagh ring glowing in the swirling fires of the vortex to hell.

"I… I have to go…"

She ignored the stares and angry shouts of teachers as she rushed through the corridors to her dorm room, only stopping when she reached the trunk at the foot of her bed. She rummaged through until she found the jacket she'd worn when she'd ran away and searched through the pockets until she found the silver chain from which hung her only two physical reminders of her lost love. The silver cross that he'd given her at their first meeting… and the ring he'd given to her on the night he had been taken from her.

She felt a sense of relief and completeness as she slipped the ring back onto her finger. The initial pain of his betrayal had made it too painful to wear this token of his love when Angel had lost his soul; but it would still take time before her heart belonged to anyone but him.

_**A/N :**- Please review. I'd love to know what you think of this. I'll start replies again in the next chapter._


	22. Slytherin Dungeons

_**WordCount:** 40,678 (Go me! I've crossed the 40k mark!)_

_**A/N:**- I have been reposting some chapters and have renamed my Federal Institute of Magic to be the Federal Bureau of Magic Affairs as I have been told this is more American. thanks to OrangeMike for pointing out a series of my mistakes/anglicanisms._

_I just realised how many reviews there were for the previous chapter. I will try to reply to them and post them in Ch. 21. In the mean time thank you so much to everyone that reviewed. I know with the wait it probably doesn't seem like it, but they did encourage me to write. one note now: _

_  
great big buffy fan - as I think I've mentioned before, I put back the entire buffy timeline to make it fit cronologically with the HP one I'm using. it is therefore, currently Sept-95._

_Victoria87 - my chapter titles aren't always important or meaningful. Wormwood was just the plant they were harvesting in the lesson and that Buffy and Malfoy discussed._

_Rebecca Pierson - I dont think buffy will go back to wearing the cross mainly just because it was more a symbol of her job than their love - she didnt even know him when he gave it to her. I do like other peoples use of boggarts, but it has been used alot and there's still the problem of where she would encounter one - umbridge wouldn't show them one and harry couldnt find one when he wanted one to help teach the patronus charm._

_Ambs - don't worry there will be no Dr/B (except in his dreams) but sorry no B/A either. People seem to like how I write Buffy pining over him, but I dont think I could make the relationship believable as I'm not much of a fan of his (more the fault of AtS than him in BtVS)_

_jumping-jo - glad you think she's still in character_

_Pammie884 - as I've said, I may not love B/A, but it still annoys me when people ignore it's existance in fic._

_ditchertypepersonBUM - soon enough?_

_Uhm.What - sory, but this part is kinda another connector (though it needs to he there) I think its better than the previous ont though, and the next one should be fun - flying!_

_geddessa39 - There will be both slayage and suspision coming soon...ish, but sorry no B/A._

_Allen Pitt - I should be posting more often for a while now. yeah Angel did mess her up, which is why I'm putting time into seing her slowly recover. Sorry no Sirius/Evans. I don't think it'd be believable with her dislike of James that she would go for Sirius._

_Littledrusilla - people will find out she's the slayer, but not i think until after her parentage's revealled_

_patchbitbo - I might have some more spike, merely because I quite like the idea of a HP person pointing out the similarity to Draco (draco always seems to be mini-spike, not the other way around)_

_Selene12 - I have tried to make buffy realistic... well within a world where there are witches anyway. I'm glad that even through the depression I seem to constantly put our slayer in there's still some hope, and I LOVE your idea that the Griffs would annoy her. Definately got to think of a way to fit that in. thanks._

_Shabopo - I had thought about using the mark but she mentions at the end of the episode that she had to blow her savings on getting it removed before her mum noticed, plus I think that she wears strappy tops later in the series without showing it, so I'm gonna go with cannon in saying she got the tattoo removed._

_Alex, Susan, Just Me, Darklight - thanks for reviewing.  
_

_**Slytherin Dungeons**_

She didn't notice her stomach start to rumble until more than half of the lunch break had passed, but by then it was groaning with a vengeance. The slayer's metabolism had made quick work of her early breakfast and was now demanding more sustenance. Making her way out of the tower, ignoring the whisperings of students in the common room still gossiping about the new addition to their house, she found herself wandering towards the painting which marked the entrance to the kitchens, before she realised that with the occasional clusters of students in the corridors there was no way for her to sneak into the house-elves' realm without being caught. Reluctantly she continued down the corridor to the Great Hall.

As Buffy walked down the aisles between the long house tables of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws the rowdy chatter died down to a whisper, only to resume at a fierce pace behind her when she had passed the gossipers by. Not that any of the tactless attempts of the students to hide the subject of their discussions would have worked; with her enhanced senses she could hear all of the conversations around her without effort, and caught the occasional snippet from the other tables.

The only table that seemed, if not oblivious, at least to consider themselves superior to the excitement of the new arrival, was the Slytherins. Though she was sent a number of enquiring glances from that table, their self imposed seclusion from the rest of the school had obviously prevented them from being party to either the partial 'truth' or the extraordinarily exaggerated rumours that were being spread around about the arrival of an American at Hogwarts.

Luckily for Buffy the awkwardness with the fifth years left by her earlier outburst allowed her some respite from questions, allowing her to get a quick meal and then rush off to find seclusion in the potions labs as she waited for her next lesson.

Snape swooped into the classroom and started to sort through the notes on his desk, oblivious to the pupil in the back row of his dank retreat. Having found the scroll he was looking for, he made his way up the aisle between the desks, his opinion of what was written on the parchment exhibited by an occasional grimace or sneer. Reaching the back of the room, he paused for a moment as he finished the page, then unlocked the cabinet and began a quick inspection of his stock of ingredients.

It wasn't until he turned around following his inspection of the cupboard that he noticed the student already seated in his classroom. It took even longer for him to connect the girl comfortably seated in Hogwarts uniform to the one he had met in the summer.

Without the assistance of the California sun and some help from dyes, the bright blonde of Buffy's hair had lost its radiance and showed large chunks of hair at the roots that betrayed her natural hair colour, a much darker almost dirty blonde that somehow managed to make her expressive eyes stand out more from her face. Her features, though still gaunt, had gained some substance through healthier eating; and her skin no longer seemed drawn tight over her bones. Since she was no longer wracked by her grief, her strength of posture, economy of movement and constant awareness gave her a strong presence without any conscious effort on her part.

In the time it took the professor to find and identify the intruder, Buffy too had been observing the man who had tried hardest and come closest out of all the people she had met in the wizarding world to uncovering her secret. The changes would be unnoticeable in anyone less well versed in the study of human movement, something any true fighter needed to do in order to anticipate their foe's attacks; but it was obvious that the man was exhausted, if not physically, at least mentally, and perhaps, though she hadn't yet had enough time around wizards to be able to identify it, exhausted magically as well.

This was especially evident in his reaction to her. Where he would have been ecstatic to get a chance to torment her alone in the hopes of extracting a snippet that could reveal her past, there was no eager spark in his dark eyes; even his face didn't move far past its fixed sneer.

"Miss Summers, so _nice_ to see you. I was pleasantly surprised to find your work was barely worse than a Gryffindor _second year's_ when I returned." The flash of anger that rose at his description of her, though not good, at least adequate potions skills made several of the glass jars on the wall beside her rattle on their shelves.

Without nightly slaying to both ease her frayed temper and expend some of her seemingly inexhaustible energy supply, Buffy had found that more and more often a strong emotion or need would cause magical repercussions. While these had primarily made her teachers treat her like a young child still unable to control its bladder enough to keep its sheets dry, she had seen some looks of worry on the faces of the teachers as these outbursts hadn't decreased significantly in either frequency or intensity.

These flares of power, Buffy had read were the result of large amounts of magical energy manifesting in young pre-school wizards. Without any way of using the power up routinely as it was in lessons at school and in the daily course of life for adult wizards, the power would overflow and be expended when the child felt bursts of emotions. Unfortunately for Buffy her Slayer power, now that it was no longer used in enhancing her senses and strength during hunts or to heal battle wounds, was using magic as a way to escape from her system. As the tremors subsided, Buffy turned back to the professor to see a satisfied smirk cross his face. The childish associations of such outbursts had made them a thing of great amusement to the potions professor.

"Now now, we wouldn't want to break anything would we?" Buffy heard the first true emotion in Snape's tone: his enjoyment of the reaction he had managed to cause in the usually unresponsive girl. In every other encounter Buffy had fought hard to control herself in the presence of the potions Professor, having to keep her face fixed and magic restrained so that he wouldn't extract any clues to her secret. She saw triumph cross the features before they settled back into a hungry sneer.

He glanced at her shoulder at the place where the scar which had seemingly confirmed his suspicions about the girl was hidden under her robes. "I had an interesting discussion with a friend of mine in International Muggle Relations while you were away. It seems a 'Buffy Anne Summers' ran away while under charges for murder from Sunnydale California. The suspect was expelled by her school due to her delinquent behaviour and managed to add an attack upon police officers to her… extensive record before she disappeared."

Buffy was careful to control her anger at his intrusion into her life to a slow simmer which merely made the whistle of a draft in the corridor outside. If Buffy hadn't been able to tell that it was her power, she doubted it would have been noticeable as anything other than the usual creaks and groans of the castle.

"If I'm wanted for murder, why was I let out of the country?" Buffy's calm response caused a flush of anger on Snape's pale complexion. "Because," he sneered "the charges were dropped before you were captured by the Bureau." His tone clearly displayed his disgust at this oversight. "I'm on to you though, burning down buildings, skipping lessons, _murder_. You're more than you seem and I _will_ find out what." By the end of his rant Snape's eyes were flashing in his rage.

Refusing to rise to the obvious threats, Buffy thought about the charges laid at her door. If Snape knew about her past actions why hadn't anyone called her up on them? Suddenly the reason for the professor's bile was obvious. "I'm sure you've told Dumbledore everything I've been _accused_ of." A flash of his eyes was all it took to confirm her belief that the Headmaster knew and didn't care about her past. "It was the lifetime dream of my principal to expel me and it took him more than a year to do it. Do you seriously think_ you'll_ find out anything more than he did? He couldn't even make the murder charge stick." There seemed no point anymore in denying that there was something to hide, but it was definitely enjoyable to put the greasy man in his place.

Before Snape could splutter out a retort the lunch break ended and a sullen group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs trouped silently into the classroom. Buffy ignored the flashes of anger that were directed at her throughout the class and concentrated on making a passable version of the deep-numb which Pervy the Prefect had accurately predicted would be their first assignment.

Entering the Great Hall after the last class, Buffy was pleasantly surprised that, though she still got interested glances from many in the Hall, she no longer seemed to be the talk of the school. She had paused for a moment to look down the Ravenclaw table for a place to sit away from overly interfering students when she was hit into from behind.

With only her natural balance as a slayer keeping her on her feet, she turned and had to force herself not to move into a position ready to fight. The grace of her movements afforded her an appreciative look from the boy that seemed determined to dog her steps.

"…try to look where you're going, we don't want people thinking you belong in _Hufflepuff_" He finished berating one of his gorilla-like friends that seemed to almost constantly follow the blonde boy around before turning to Buffy. "I'm _terribly_ sorry. I don't think we've been introduced, I'm Draco Malfoy" Buffy looked in disgust at the hand that the boy extended. When it became obvious that the boy intended neither to go away nor leave her alone she replied with a simple "Buffy."

"It's wonderful to have students from overseas visiting our school, The Minister told my father…" his pompous small talk was interrupted by a confused grunt from his companion.

The large boy was staring into space with a dazed and confused expression twisted onto his features and his leg bent as if he was about to move. "It looks like your clockwork bodyguard's tried thinking and walking at the same time and been overloaded. You might have to reboot him." Buffy was about to move off as Draco attempted to decipher her sentence when a large girl interrupted them, looking at Buffy with eyes full of jealousy and scorn.

"You're not talking to this mud-blood are you, Draco? It's bad enough they let in British Muggles, let alone foisting American scum onto us too."

Buffy escaped the Slytherins as Draco stared at her in horror, making her way to the opposite end of the Ravenclaw table where she ended up seated next to some of the girls she'd been talking to earlier that day. Though they hadn't been talking about her, they quieted their conversation when she sat down and looked around awkwardly, unsure what to say to the girl they'd reminded of her boyfriends demise.

Padma sat down with the group, seemingly oblivious to the extended silence, and immediately started talking quickly at the group. "Did you hear what Harry said?" She continued, obviously not expecting anyone else to answer, "He called Umbridge a liar." Her voice dropped from almost happy to fearful, "Said _You-Know-Who_ was really back and that it was _him_ that killed Cedric."

Silence extended over their whole section of the table at those words before it was broken by a derogatory snort from further along the table. "Of course _Harry _says that. The boy's plain barmy. Thinks he's duelled You-Know-Who" the boy paused for effect "_and escaped_. Who does he think he is, an Auror?"

Curious Buffy turned to Padma "Why do you call someone You-Know-Who; and who's Harry?"

After the initial disbelief that anyone could know nothing about Voldemort's reign, the group started explaining. Through the jumbled comments and constant backtracking as they realised how little Buffy knew about the dangers of their world, the story came out. It sounded like a fairy tale, it sounded unreal, it sounded like every explanation of the demonic world Giles had ever given her.

An evil wizard terrorising the wizarding world. His sudden demise caused by a child that hadn't even learnt to form words. The child's disappearance into obscurity. His sudden reappearance and his arrival at Hogwarts. The strange events that seemed to always surround him.

Buffy went to sleep that night with her head full of thoughts of spells that could control your mind, cause searing pain, kill. The darker side of the wizarding world had been uncovered and, though she tried, she couldn't get rid of an ominous feeling. If she had the dates right, the Potter kid claimed this evil wizard had returned to life on the very day that she had prevented Acathla from sucking the world into hell, that she had run away and all this had started. Leprechauns might exist, but no-one would believe in a coincidence that big.

_**A/N:**- Coming next:- the ever so long awaited flying lesson chapter. It's mainly written so shouldn't be long before I post it. Reviews, as always, are appreciated._


	23. Books and Broomsticks

_**WordCount:**- 43,883 (yay for a longer chapter than usual - four whole pages on word! ok that's not much, but it's alot for me k?)_

_**A/N:**- I know I said I'd have this chapter... like three chapters ago, but I didn't realise I'd need three chapters to do the first day (a bit excessive even for me). Anyway after saying for the last three chapters that this was coming soon, its finally here - buffy gets onto a broom. Let me know what you think (esp. the first part. Does it seem in character?). LGI x (oh and I honestly will get those review repliesfor 20 out... eventually.)_

_Ok, I'm really sorry but I just wrote out all the review replies... and then the page refreshed before I could save it. dumb I know but these might be brief as I dont have the energy to write lots all over again. _

_Pamie884 - barring my usual practice of writing far more chapters than I plan, Buffy should be meeting Harry in a couple of chapters. _

_sparky24 - I reposted the previous chapter with some changes to the wandless magic part that hopefully make it make more sense. As I've been thinking about the plotline of this fic since Jan I sometimes get muddled at what I've explained already. Thanks for pointing this out._

_Just Me - wow. Best chapter yet? good to know that they haven't dropped in quality even though they've become harder to write._

_Allen Pitt - It seemed normal for a suspicious Snape to do some kind of background check. hmmm McG... I really have to do another scene with her in... thanks for reminding me. I would love some more Spike. that ep of Angel that he's in (with the ring of amara) is pretty much the only one I like. Evil Spike is one of the most enjoyable characters to write. the trio getting suspicious of her... now why would that happen...? lol_

_coke the child - I totally agree with your assesment of the B/A situation. the slayer is definately itching to get out. keeping a low profile isn't going to be easy for B._

_chicklepea - I'm not a fan of toy-boys either but its not unknown for young boys to have crushes on older girls. There will be no B/Dr so I hope you dont mind me playing around with the lil slytherins emotions just a little bit more. lovesick draco is just so funny._

_Anne - Its fun to insult slytherins with muggle related comments. you can just immagine the 'huh?' face that crabbe/goyle would make._

_Violet Star - as I said in a review reply in the last chapter, buffy wont make the Spike/Draco comparison (i dont feel that she'd see them as that alike. as a slayer she'd see the predator in a vampire that draco could never immitate. plus in comparison to truly evil Spike, any malfoy is a kitten.) but I would like to have a HP character make the comparison._

_Uhm.What - you're right in thinking the slayer power will continue to manifest in magical ways._

_Ambs - personally I dont think Snape needs to be redeemed. granted he's a bastard, but he's not evil... just mean. Draco will stay his normal lovable self. he's more fun that way._

_Dur'id the Druid - sorry for messing up your sleep. I'm glad it's managed to overcome the stigma that seems to have become associated with these crossovers. Intellegently written:s hopefully I'll live up to expectations. seriously though, thanks._

_Darklight - yeah buffy did come off a bit psychopathic but then that's obviously what he thought of her already so she really hasn't made things MUCH worse with Snape... just put him in his place a bit._

_Sarah - wasn't sure where to put this reply as you'd alredy kinda reviewed this chapter... yup tonnes of suspicion around buff... poor girl. I dunno when I'll be updating. not much to do at the moment but I'm a bit stuck on the next chapter. Mon perhaps? as you seem to have noticed I tend to update slightly earlier on tth as I always have less review replies to write. I should probably make it the other way around to reward the readers who review more..._

_Alex, LittleDrusilla - thanks for reviewing._

**_Books and Broomsticks_**

Buffy got very little sleep on the night that brought about the close of her first day at Hogwarts surrounded by her fellow students. So much seemed to have happened, she had found out so much. Thoughts of the dark wizard threatening the British Isles lead to the events that coincided with his resurrection; the closing of Acathla's vortex to hell as Angel was sucked into it.

The events of the preceding years all seemed like the overture to a play, all giving her the strength, the skills to be of use in this time, this place. That damn demon had even said there was more to come… right before her life had spiralled out of control and her viewpoint on life, hell existence, was forced to change once more.

_How could the powers give her no help, let her die, force her to kill not just his demon inhabited body, but the man she loved. Then expect her to give up her only chance of an escape from the constant burden of destiny to fight the enemies of a world that wasn't even under the slayers normal jurisdiction. From what they'd said the wizarding world had its own way of dealing with this kind of threat and had done so before. Didn't one of the girls say something about another wizard… Groundwand?… and they managed to get rid of him. Let the Roary people deal with him. _

As she forced herself to get at least a few hours rest before the next days lessons Buffy tried to reassure herself that she had no obligation to the approaching war_. The Roarers are paid to battle dark wizards after all. Its not my destiny to do their jobs. _With that final decision she forced all stray thoughts on the subject out of her head. The path that they could lead towards thoughts of Angel was too painful to tread often.

On the second morning as she descended the stairs from the dormitory to go to breakfast, she was hailed by Anthony, who had been pinning a notice to the board in the common room.

"Buffy! I was just about to look for you."

"Oh?"

"The Ravenclaw first-years are having their first flying lesson on Thursday and Professor Flitwick said you could join them if you wanted." He pointed up at the notice that he'd put up, announcing their flying lesson first thing on Thursday.

Buffy screwed up her forehead in thought, trying to remember if there was anything on her timetable at that time. "Oh, don't worry. Flying on a broom isn't hard." Looking up in surprise at the comment, Buffy realised that she must have had an expression that could be interpreted as worry on her face.

"No… I was just…" she paused. She was slightly worried about the logistics of the act of flying a broom. Being in an aircraft that weighed tonnes with multiple safety procedures somehow didn't compare well to having only a staff and a few twigs preventing her from falling to earth. "How do brooms work anyway?"

"Oh it's all to do with the charms on the bristles. The Cleansweep for example…"

It seemed that this was a topic on which Anthony could continue for hours. By the time they had reached the breakfast table they had been joined by Michael Corner who continued a discussion with Anthony on the merits of the different ways of charming brooms in relation to their performance until they were interrupted by the sound of a hundred beating wings and the spray of rain dripping off sodden feathers as the post arrived at the tables.

The previous day she had managed to leave the hall before the daily invasion of owls, so Buffy was shocked by both the number and the noise as they circled the hall, giving off the occasional screech as they searched for the person their letter was destined for. One would drop from the cloud of dripping birds overhead and give over its burden, then fly back out into the wind and the rain. The number of birds slowly diminished until the hall was once again only occupied by people and ghosts, though the volume had dropped slightly as people read their letters, the occasional delighted shout of surprise disturbing the hall when a student received good news or a special treat in a package from home.

Having finished her meal, Buffy left the two fifth year boys talking animatedly about Quidditch; escaping to spend her free period away from her fellow students in the silence of the library. The lessons continued much as they had on her first day, though as Tuesdays consisted only of fourth year classes, there were no lectures at the start of the lessons as to the importance of the years work. This however did not prevent the teachers from piling on even more essays.

By the end of her extra charms lesson she felt magically and physically weary, having practiced Growth and shrinking charms for what seemed like hours, progressing from inanimate objects to more complex plants and finally animals before Professor Flitwick would allow her to rest. She slumped down at a table in an unused corner of the common room and opened her books, but found herself unable to find the willpower to start on the multiple essays that seemed to have built up over only two days of lessons.

The next morning, Buffy was once again up at an ungodly time in the morning, descending the stairs long before dawn. She forced herself to start the potions essay, flicking through her textbooks to find the relevant passages and trying to force some of the dry information to stay in her mind so that she wouldn't feel too foolish in front of the Professor when he, as seemed likely from his recent treatment, scathingly questioned her on the assignment.

Her first Charms class came and went. Learning the hand movements along with their incantations was easy in comparison to her having to perfect positions and remember the names of the various fighting stances that Giles had taught her. In the Library after her final gruelling lesson she found herself an isolated corner and went in search of a few referenced she had needed for her potions essay.

She was just finishing off the final inch of the parchment when a girl came around the bookshelf that separated her table from the rest of the library and, instead of turning to find another table, approached the one covered in open books.

"Excuse me? Can I sit here?"

Buffy looked up in surprise at the bushy-haired girl. So far she had hardly seen any students below the seventh year in the library. Sure, students from the lower years came in and checked out books, but most seemed to prefer to do their work in the more sociable house common rooms rather than be restricted to the silence that Madame Pince forced upon them in the library. She leant over to move some of her books out of the way, but as she was about to remove the copy of '_Advanced Potions Volume II' _the girl stopped her.

"Um… actually I wanted to use that book." When Buffy looked sharply up at the girl, raising her eyebrow at her bossy tone, she continued with a stutter "I…if you're finished with it of course."

Buffy shrugged and silently indicated for the girl to take the book. She sat down expecting the girl to leave her alone now that she had the book that had obviously been her purpose in coming to this corner of the library, but instead she took a seat in a chair at the other end of the table and started getting out her work. When the girl pulled the book towards her, about to turn back to the contents of the book, Buffy decided she might as well be charitable.

"You might want that page." The girl looked up in confusion, and Buffy shoved the feather of her quill in the place that she'd almost lost "Fifth year potions, right?"

"Yes"

Buff flicked the pages back to where she had left it open using her quill to leaver it open and pointed at a paragraph half way down the first page "Moonstone essay?" Buffy more stated than asked though she still received a sharp nod "That's the passage you want."

She expertly skimmed the passage that Buffy had indicated and muttered thanks, jotting down some notes on a piece of parchment. When she finally rolled up the parchment with a satisfied smile she looked up at Buffy.

"You're the new girl right? Buffy?"

"Yeah." Buffy sighed. In just three short days her bizarre story had travelled all across the school, her strange circumstances making her almost as well known and interesting to the student body as the Potty guy that everyone talked about.

"Hermione Granger." She held out her hand and looked at Buffy with such intense interest that she almost cringed away from the questions that were no doubt coming "Have you really seen New Salem?"

"New Salem?" asked Buffy, confused. Most students had been more interested in delving into her past than they had in any place she'd been, especially a place she'd never even heard of. She'd been especially careful not to mention the name of her home town in case the wizard community knew anything about Sunnydale.

"Yeah. It's the only wizarding city in the world. It's meant to be amazing: a city inside a mountain." It was impossible not to smile at the enthusiasm that was in the girl's tone "I guess I've been there. Not for long though." Buffy dismissed her short stay in the icy city.

"You were in the Bureau headquarters, though, right? The stag has one of the most powerful single freezing charms ever performed on it. It's been frozen for nearly two centuries and it's still not worn off." Her awe at the power required for such a feat had caused her to raise her tone enough that Madam Prince rounded the bookcase and sent them a stern look.

As Buffy finally left, having given up on doing any more work that evening, she was stopped by Hermione on the way out of the door. "Buffy!" she was waving a piece of parchment at her and carrying her own books askew in her arms. "You dropped your…" she paused as she caught her breath and glanced at the parchment in her hand "timetable." Buffy murmured her thanks and held out her hand for the sheet, but Hermione was now looking at it intently.

"That's strange…" she looked up at Buffy suspiciously "why don't you have any classes with me? You have them with every other fourth and fifth year class."

Buffy took the parchment and looked it over, seeing that Hermione was right in saying that she had no classes with the Gryffindor fifth years. "I guess they just didn't fit in."

"But…" Hermione started, before pausing. If there was some reason that the teachers didn't want this girl in the same class as Harry, it was probably not a good idea to draw attention to that fact. "Yeah you're probably right. See you around." She hurried off to the Gryffindor tower, trying to think of anything suspicious she had heard about the new girl.

Buffy headed towards the Ravenclaw tower, rushing slightly to make it back in time for curfew. Glancing out of a window, a lone flyer on the Quidditch pitch reminded her of what she was in store for the next day and Hermione's strange reaction was soon thrust out of her mind.

"Put your hand over your broom and say 'Up.'"

The flying lesson was taking place on the Quidditch pitch and the first year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were each standing beside one of the school brooms. Some chattering excitedly about daring feats they had achieved upon a broomstick while others, predominantly the muggle-born students, looked at their brooms fearfully.

"Up."

The broom shot into her hand with a force that would have knocked anyone but a slayer off balance. It felt slightly warm to the touch and she could feel the broom shiver in her hand, as if it was excited to be used. Looking around her, she noticed that not many of the others' brooms had come to their hands, and the ones that had definitely weren't vibrating with energy the way hers was. It was almost as if sparks of energy were going into the broom through her hand as she felt numerous small shocks run down through her arm.

She warily mounted the energised broom, instinctively taking the correct position without Madam Hooch's detailed description of grips, and had to almost force it to stay grounded while the flying instructor meandered through the lines of pupils, correcting grips. When she was satisfied, she returned to the front of the class.

"When I blow my whistle, kick off the ground. Keep your brooms steady and go up a few feet before coming straight down by leaning forward." She paused and looked around in a final check. "On my whistle – three – two – one" the shrill blast of the whistle sounded and about half of the students rose above the ground, those that had been heard bragging over their broom skills rising noticeably higher than the others and eliciting a slight frown from the teacher.

Buffy's broom jumped off the ground before she had even pushed off, and shuddered in her grasp as she hung midair, trying to force its way up, forward, any and every way. When she leant along the broom it jumped down, sending a painful jolt up to her knees when she landed hard on the ground with no time to absorb the shock in her legs.

The next time they were told to move forward a few metres before again stopping and lowering themselves to the ground. As she rose into the air, the trembling intensified, forcing her to take a stronger grip on her broom. She heard one of the wizard-born first years behind her snigger at the older girl shaking so hard on her broom that it could be seen shuddering, but there was nothing she could do to stop its movement.

Leaning forward and finally allowing the broom to release some of the power it seemed to be overflowing with, she jumped forward, shooting up and along, taking only seconds to reach the cliffs upon which the school was perched. Instinctively pulling back on the broom before she crashed into the rocky wall, she soared almost vertically up the cliff face. She struggled to straighten the broom, as she saw the Ravenclaw tower pass her by, but it was fighting against any attempts to point it downward.

Managing to force the broom to level out along the rooftop of the castle, she flitted along the battlements, twisting and turning as she steered her speeding broom around the gargoyles and towers that dotted the rooftop. For a moment she was able to revel simply in the joy of being in the air, of feeling the wind rush past her face and the delicious lurches of the broom as she zoomed in and out of obstacles. She finally understood why Anthony had raved about flying so much, though he had been more concerned with it's applications in Quidditch. Being in the air made her feel more free and untroubled than she had ever been before.

Bursting out to the other side of the castle, she managed to force the broom downwards. Her eyes watering with the wind rushing past her broom that was now hurtling towards the ground, she failed to see the large tree that she was headed towards. Her senses screamed out for her to stop, and she pulled back her broom, forcing it up with enough strength to hear a slight cracking as the wood strained against the sudden movement. Unfortunately, the Whomping Willow had already noticed the intruder and flicked out a limb like a whip, hitting the twigs at the tail of the broom.

The broom spun, knocking Buffy into a flip as she was forced to dismount midair. She managed to use the spin to twist herself around so that she landed on her feet, crouching down to absorb the shock of falling nearly ten feet off a broom. Without the weight of a passenger; the broom spun towards the forbidden forest. It hit hard against the trunk of one of the tall trees and fell, broken almost in two, to the ground.

When Buffy forced her gaze away from the place where the broom, which could have carried her with it, had smashed against the still-shuddering tree, she found herself standing beside Madam Hooch and the better half of the class, all grasping brooms and staring at her with shocked awe. Slightly shaken by the flight, she allowed the flying teacher to lead her into the school where she was taken to the infirmary to rest.

She awoke from a doze bought about by whatever potion Madame Pomfrey had forced upon her in her shocked state, hearing hushed voices nearby.

"Do you know what happened?"

"I'm not sure…" That was Madam Hooch's harsh voice, which seemed to contain some begrudging admiration as it continued, "She seemed to control the broom admirably, I don't think I've seen anyone else make such tight turns at that speed, and it went faster than I've ever seen…"

"Brooms do use the power of their rider, perhaps it took too much of hers…"

"She isn't low on magic, though. I tested her energy levels using her wand while she was resting… no I think she must just have a lot of power for the broom to take"

"We already knew that she was powerful, and unable to control it. After all, that's why she's here." She could hear the concern in Dumbledore's voice "I had thought that she had enough restraint by now to use a broom…" She heard the opening and closing of a door and the voices were now muffled by the barrier, "perhaps it will have to wait until she can control how much of her power it takes…"

The voices trailed off as they moved off down the corridor, leaving Buffy alone in the infirmary. Silently standing, she edged out of the room while there was no-one there to force her to stay in the hospital room. She wandered along the corridors on the way to Charms, contemplating what she'd heard and wondering why Dumbledore had failed to mention her_other_ power source.

_**A/N:**- Ok, I'm bored so it's back to giving you things to guess (this isn't ENTIRELY about me trying to get more reviews... honest :she says as she starts jittering from feedback withdrawl symptoms:)._

_In a couple of chapters Buffy will meet a much loved griffindor (outside the golden trio) who do you think it'll be? If you guess right you get a muffin. _

_Oh and I was thinking of making a website for this. There are some things like a timetable I made for Buffy and a calender of events that I could put up alongside the story. I mainly made them so I could keep track of what I was doing. would anyone actually be interested or should I not bother?_


	24. Post Flight, Doubts Grow

_**WordCount:**- 46,750_

_**A/N:**- Okay, so this is a repost with some minor changes to improve the grammar thanks to OrangeMike being a wonderful beta, but otherwise unchanged. I have made that website I mentioned, feel free to go browse if you wish. It doesn't have all of the story up there yet but does have some other connected things...I dont think I'm allowed to put web addresses here but it'slinked through my homepage. As I said before I am going away. **I will be unable to update between June 30th and July 25th.** plus I still have to write the next chapter so maybe give me bout a week's grace after that? I hoped to write it up before leaving but it seens sorting out my life for a holiday is harder than I thought._

_Uhm.What - buffy definately has more to discover about herself._

_Chooser of the Slain - Dumbledore always knows more than most... but as for what he knows..._

_Allen Pitt - hope you like the site... it's not much. Oooh I think you were my 300th reviewer. yay have a muffin for reviewing so much._

_Lisa - sorry I dont think Buffy will be doing quiddich... I did kinda want her to though. still got time to decide._

_Anne - sorry not Neville. this chapter kinda makes it obvious who it is though..._

_Susan - she wont be caught with a vamp. I just dont think that wizards would let many congregate arround the place where all their children are... as this chapter kinda rants, I think the wizarding world is far more over protective than that. Oooh I love the dementor idea... It'd make a scene that I'd thought of for coming later soo much better. thanks. It wont involve the wizards finding out though... but still lots of fun..._

_Selene 12 - yeah I like flitwick... and after so many reviews begging for interraction with neville I think i will have her meeting him soonish... I don't know... everything new I plan just means longer untill we find out about her parents. I dont want to make you all wait too long._

_sparky 24 - Cho Chang is in the year above so Buffy though probably having met her in passing at the table or in the common room doesn't really have much contact with her. yeah the flying thing was a bit wierd but thinking how to do that scene just made me wonder how brooms get the power to work... which by natural progression lead to that chapter. the slayer power is currently very much uncontrollable from buffys point of view. especially when it builds up caus she cant slay._

_chicklepea - yeah I just realised the timetable I wrote doesn't even work! (If you look at harrys timetable i have both the ravenclaw and gryffindor 5th yrs having classes with slytherins at the same time... oops) I did write it while I had mumps/meningitus... so I think I can be forgiven for getting confused.Unfortunately how I've written the chapters makes it a bit hard to change arround so it'll have to stick for now at least. I'm getting a bit bored of the Draco thing now.. I think I might leave him alone... let him get over it and be dejected. He might find out and spill the beans on a few of buffy's secrets first... caus he's bound to be bitter. sry... the muffins have all been eaten by me!_

_Amber Penglass - yeah I'm bored of Draco too... he's only had the crush for a week though... I havent really dragged it out. (really I just want a reason for malfoy to be bitter and annoyed at her... he's so much fun when he is)_

_General Mac - sorry no asskicking yet... but I do think it would be fun for... when she tells them to go "oh yeah, I owe you this..." and knock snape out... could be ammusing. dunno how it'll pan out though._

_dizzi - I don't know if I can plausably get spike in there again but I would like to see him again. I love him pre-S4_

_Shabopo - did I not reply to your review...?... sorry. Like I said I did all the reviews for the last chapter then lost them all as my connection went down just as it was saving the doc... sry... I know I need to do something about buffy's training/exercising... it has only been a week so far since she could go out of Diagon Alley to slay so she's not too stressed over it yet... soon. I promise._

_The Statue - It would be cool if she used the room of reqirement, but I dont see how I could have her find out about it. It's not exactly well known. I have a plan for other... unknown... places for her to go though. I would like to have her playing Quiddich, but I don't know if it would work... and yeah she would be really dangerous._

_Darklight - testing her energy is more like checking your heartrate... well in my immagination anyway, I figure part of what allows wizards to live so long is their magic so if they have none left it's be like putting intense strain on their physical makeup that is at least slightly dependent on the power._

_Pammie884 - cant answer much without giving stuff away, but I dont think Dumbledore has ever completely underestimated her... he just doesn't know where she stands._

_seriously strange though - sorry about the updates. hopefully they'll get better when I get back._

_Rebecca Pierson - ah see there was a reason i made her go so far away so fast... noone was there to see her do her amazing flip. I don't see why snape would have gone deep enough to find out about Giles. It's not like her connection to him would be on any of her permanent records, so she's still safe from that for the moment. Buffy will be going into the forest soon. never appologise for either long reviews or liking what i write, both things are all that keep me writing this._

_Sarah, manticore-gurl071134, __aleclovemax, Skylar - thanks for reviewing._

_**Post Flight, Doubts Grow**_

Buffy continued her normal lessons after lunch, having slept through most of Charms due to the effects of the potion she had been given. By dinner time she was vaguely surprised that there were no recriminations for her escape from the hospital, though she had just been sent there to rest. Her high spirits at having avoided any more questioning were dashed when, walking past Professor Flitwick's office on the way to the kitchen to grab some food while avoiding the attention she had received at lunch, a squeaky voice summoned her within.

"Miss Summers, I was just about to send for you." Entering, she saw Padma and Anthony along with another three pupils sporting the blue Ravenclaw Prefects badge, and Angela Delaney, who had been pompously and, judging by the faces of her peers, unnecessarily explaining something to the prefects who were crowded into the small available space in the cluttered office. The Head Girl sent a slightly reproachful look Buffy's way for interrupting her speech, but was mollified when Professor Flitwick dismissed the prefects saying, "I think that will do, I'm sure Angela can finish this off in the common room?" Like all such personalities she took great pleasure in shooing out the prefects, bursting with a raised sense of power.

When they were left alone, Professor Flitwick looked up at Buffy, a faint worried expression on his wizened face. "I suppose you know why you're here?"

"I… um… I'm really sorry about that broom. I can get the school a new one…." Buffy trailed off at the bemused expression on the Professor's face. It seemed she wasn't going to get away with playing dumb blonde and merely having to repay the damages.

"Buffy," he admonished her slightly "We both know that you are more than what you seem, and" he added, a slight twinkle coming into his eyes, "I don't mean the 'Stupid American' impression that you do so admirably. I think you'd almost convinced Snape there was a problem with the Sorting Hat before he read your first essay." He chuckled and Buffy smirked at the memory, though the week in which Snape had assumed her to be a dimwit as well as a suspicious being had been a lot easier than when he started expecting her to do well.

He shook his head slightly, seemingly to return his train of thought to the path it had been taking. "We believe that your… mishap… on your broom was related to your dual power sources feeding it more energy than it would usually absorb. This made it go…"

"Flying out of control?" Buffy finished as Professor Flitwick seemed to be searching for an adequate word to describe her speedy flight over the rooftops. "Quite. As you no doubt know, the magic we teach here grants you some control, using a wand, over one of your power sources. As you learn to do more complex spells, this ability will grow. However, as we cannot give you any advice on how to keep your… other… power source in check, Dumbledore has asked someone with experience in a similar situation who has agreed to assist you in this. Would you be available on Saturday to meet him?"

Buffy nodded dumbly. She had heard from the other students' discussions of previous DADA Professors that Dumbledore had a werewolf on his staff, which had at least partially explained his acceptance of her without a further explanation, but that he would assist her in learning how to control her dark side seemed unbelievable.

Barely taking in the time and place she stumbled, shocked, out of the office, only reminded by a low grumble from her stomach of where she had been headed before she had been called to speak to Flitwick. Turning back towards the kitchen, she unconsciously skipped down shortcuts to avoid the admiring gaze of the first years returning from dinner who, as first-hand observers had been more impressed than others by her feat of flying.

Feeling uncommonly exhausted in spite of her forced nap in the morning, Buffy slept for an almost normal seven hours that night, waking up at the same time as one of her dorm mates. When she emerged from the heavy drapes of the bed, the other girl looked at her in surprise. With Buffy tending to go to bed late and wake early, she had hardly ever so much as seen any of the other occupants of her room. The seventh year smiled shyly at her and mumbled a hushed "mornin'" before grabbing her bag and tiptoeing out.

Upon entering the Great Hall Buffy found herself subject to an angry stare from the top table. Though she had attended her afternoon lessons, she had been excused from all lessons after her unexpected flight and she had used this as an excuse to avoid her extra DADA lesson. The well of her Slayer power having been significantly reduced for the first time since she had arrived at Hogwarts, she hadn't felt that she had the energy to face the annoying professor. The look that she was receiving made her glad that she didn't have a lesson with Umbridge until Monday.

Having deliberately sat with her back to the Slytherin table since that first Dinner when she had the constant distraction of the Malfoy kid's stare, Buffy was surprised that she caught someone looking straight at her when she glanced up from her meal. Across the hall at the Gryffindor table, the girl she had met in the library was looking at her with suspicious narrowed eyes as she chewed on her breakfast. When the girl realised she'd been caught looking, she flashed an uneasy smile at the blonde Ravenclaw before turning to the boy next to her.

The red-haired boy, who had obviously attempting to get his friend's attention for some time, looked in Buffy's direction, trying to see what had made his friend so distracted. He spoke to her, causing the bushy-haired girl to once again glance in Buffy's direction, quickly looking away when she saw Buffy still looking their way. When she replied he started looking along the Ravenclaw tables, searching until he met Buffy's gaze. He started in shock when he realised she was looking at him, earning him a smack from the girl… Hermione.

Buffy sighed; she had somehow made yet another person suspicious of her; although having a couple of students wary of her couldn't be as bad as half the staff waiting for her to slip up and give something away. Remembering her earlier conversation, she relaxed slightly: at least she didn't have any classes with them; although, thinking about the girl's reaction, that might be what had caused the suspicion.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pinch on her earlobe. Looking around in shock, Buffy found herself staring into the eyes of an owl. For a moment she was confused at why the owl was bothering her. She knew so few people in the wizarding community that she had received very few owls, just one from the Minister checking on her and… she broke into a smile as she recognised the plumage on the pygmy owl. Neil.

He had been the one shaft of light in the dull world that the school had been while Buffy was alone with the teachers. After he had forced a few short facts out of her about her life; that she had run away after an argument with her mother and her boyfriend had died, he had been surprisingly understanding about her reluctance to discus her past and had, seemingly, decided to more or less ignore it's existence.

He always wrote joking letters about the events at his work and often gave her hints when she was having problems with lessons. In all the commotion of the past week she had all but forgotten to expect a reply to the postcard she had sent him from Diagon Alley.

Noting the interested looks from around the table, she decided to read her letter when she had more privacy and put it away in a pocket inside her robes. Unfortunately this action along with her friendly petting and feeding of the owl before it took off for its long flight home merely heightened interest in the question of who Buffy, who hadn't known about the wizarding world until mere months earlier, would be getting post from.

When Buffy rose to leave the table, she noticed that a new pair of eyes was staring at her thoughtfully through a pair of battered glasses. He, unlike the girl seated beside him, made no attempt to hide his interest when Buffy confronted him by meeting his stare. Instead he narrowed his eyes and scowled at her before turning to say something to his two friends.

Buffy turned back to the table when she heard a peal of laughter from nearby. She looked quizzically at Padma who was at the centre of the laughing group. "It's… you…" Padma tried to speak through her laughter. One of the other girls answered for her "It's just that the two boys that have shown most interest in you are the biggest rivals in school. Potter and Malfoy."

Buffy glanced back at the Gryffindor table to the trio whose eyes would still occasionally flick in her direction and noticed what she hadn't registered before; the scar on the dark haired boy's forehead. Harry Potter. "I don't think he's interested in me…"

"Sure he is. My sister – she's in Gryffindor – said Hermione was trying to find out about you. Said she was _very_ interested to know that… uh… you're kinda available" Though Padma hadn't said it, it was obvious what Hermione had been interested in: that her boyfriend was dead. It finally clicked who the trio of Gryffindors that were so suspicious of her were. The very same kids that had been at the centre of all the mysterious happenings over the past few years were now after her. Supposedly the girl was the smartest student in school, always with her head in a book. For the first time since she had found the vast gaps in the wizarding knowledge when it came to demon lore, she was glad that there would be no books in which Hermione could find out about a Slayer.

Abruptly, she left the Hall. She wanted nothing more than to escape the mindless nattering of the fifth year Ravenclaws. Remembering her timetable she cursed; she had Charms with them first period. Perhaps if she lingered behind she could avoid sitting near them… it looked to be yet another long day.

Buffy slumped into one of the hard leather chairs in the corner of the common room. The day had drained her still lower than usual energy levels. Potions with the Gryffindor fourth years had been slightly less painful than usual as Snape had got distracted insulting a small Gryffindor boy and never managed to make it around to Buffy's cauldron.

This had definitely been a blessing as her potion, supposedly meant to turn out turquoise and runny, had become a porridge-like substance with marbled swirls of orange and pink. It had also given off a scent that distinctly reminded her of singed hair, causing her to constantly check that she wasn't leaning too close to the flame.. Deciding that no mark was better than whatever snide comments this potion would receive, Buffy slipped out of the dungeon without submitting her work for testing.

Glad to be able to avoid the Great Hall at lunch as she had a free period afterwards in which she later made her way to the kitchens for food, she spent the break hidden amongst the bookshelves in a corner of the library. Her other lessons hadn't turned out much better; McGonagall had been more obvious than usual in her constant inspection of her, though she only visibly reacted to Buffy when she lost her temper at the mouse that _refused _to transform into anything but a small red squirrel… and failed to cause any magical repercussions.

She had to rush through dinner to quickly escape prying eyes; and even the extra Herbology lesson that she would usually have enjoyed was marred by an extra lecture from Sprout on the importance of the exams she was set to take at the end of the year. Not seeing the point in getting started on work that she had at least two whole days to complete, Buffy got out the now crumpled letter and started to read.

Eventually the natural light filtering into the Ravenclaw common room through the high windows diminished and the room began to empty as, group by group, Buffy's housemates went up to bed. In her solitary corner of the room she was overlooked when the final student left the room and ordered "Lights out." Though she had become friendly with a number of the members of her house, they were merely passing acquaintances and Buffy hadn't met anyone that she connected with enough with to spend much time together outside meals and class.

The whole wizarding world seemed to be geared towards hiding these children from the harsh realities of life for as long as possible, and as a result most of them had less worldly knowledge than she had before she was called. If growing up in L.A. had done anything for her, at least it made her aware of the darker places that human nature could take you to. Buffy had been forced from the age of fifteen to take on responsibilities and face dangers that most adults would have collapsed under. She just couldn't force any sense of fellowship with her juvenile classmates.

Alone over the summer, Buffy hadn't fully registered how precious the easy companionship that she had taken for granted when around the Scoobies was. Being around tight groups of close friends that Buffy neither could, nor particularly wanted to, make herself a part of reminded her strongly of the friends that she had left behind. She had previously avoided almost all thoughts of Sunnydale as they seemed to inevitably lead back to Angel but, though she was far from over that loss, she had just started to realise how much else she had lost when she had run away from home.

Other than the company of people who both knew and understood the more morbid side of existence that her destiny had forced her to become a part of, she missed the protective and guiding influences of her Mother and Watcher. Most of all she just missed being able, even for a moment, to let down her guard around other people. Not to have to constantly have a part of her mind working on what she could do, what she could say without being discovered.

In Sunnydale she had never had to be particularly careful, the whole society worked to blind itself to the underground element of the population and, considering her already shaky reputation, not much was thought of it if she occasionally let slip something she shouldn't or showed abnormal strength. In comparison to ignoring the massive death rates and the strange creatures which roamed the town, an abnormal girl wasn't hard to forget.

Since coming to Hogwarts, however, she'd had no respite. The staff had been on guard around her since day one, and though Professors Flitwick and Sprout had grown to trust her, she could still see the wariness occasionally return to their eyes when she did something unusual. The students luckily hadn't asked her too much about life at home, mainly just being curious about how she had come to Hogwarts at all; and the revelation that her boyfriend had died had made anyone who wanted to delve further into her past think twice… well most of them anyway, she corrected, thinking of the distrustful Gryffindors.

Remembering the trio of friends inevitably bought her thoughts in a full circle back to the Scoobies. She glanced down at the cheerful letter which ended just as every other one had, despite her failure to ever take Neil up on the offer.

_P.S. If you have any letters for home, stick 'em in n I'll see they get there. N_

If only she actually could send something to one of her friends: but what would she say? "I can't come home right now; I found out I'm a witch so I've been deported"? There was no way that she could actually lie to her friends. They already knew so much about the mystical world that it seemed pointless to hide this, but after so long it only became harder to put pen to paper… or now quill to parchment, and tell them what had happened. Why she had left them.

She finally dragged herself into bed filled with worries at how her friends were coping. She had no doubt that they would continue to try and keep the vampire population low. Buffy only hoped none of them had got badly hurt in the process… not that they needed to, she reminded herself. Because of her, Willow and Giles had already been seriously injured when she left.

_**A/N:**- next chapter: buffy meets her new tutor (and If you don't know who that is i might just give up now) what will the annoying trio think of her private lessons?..._


	25. Homebound Dreams

_**WordCount:**- 48,708_

_**A/N:**- Okay, this is a short chapter and I'm not entirely sure if it's good but I do think it needs to be here, so bare with me... sorry about the last passage if it just confuses you, blame it on greek travels. I wont answer review replies about which Gryffindor she meets as (I assume) anyone who reads this regularly will have read the bit of the next chapter I already posted and know anyway. I noticed that alot of you wanted her to meet Neville... well that kind of prompted me to write a scene where she does but that wont be coming for a bit. To all of you anxious to know her real parents... sorry that currently stands at Ch44 (though as i'm sure frequent readers will have noticed, that's liable to change.) Oh and I hope you all enjoyed HBP but can we try not to mention anything from there in reviews as I know some people havent read it and this storys only meant to give spoilers up to OotP. HBP did give me an added incentive to try to write this, so I can do a sequel... whether or not I actually manage to do one will probably depend on how hard my course is next year etc._

_Shabopo - the 'N' at the end of the post script was just Neil putting his innitial. you pretty much have it right about the trio... Yes Buffy does need to try to hone her slayer skills, but also Yes she has to try to cram way too much study into a year. I will try to balance these needs and some of them will be raised in the next few chapters. Well thought out re: umbridge... I was kinda counting on her as an excuse for them not finding out too much about Buffy. Sorry for this puny reply to your review... but I wouldnt want to spoil the fun by giving too much away. you, as always, made relevent points that help me think through my story arcs and (more often than not) find the holes in my plot that I need to fill. thanks_

_Allen Pitt - I'm not entirely sure where the rant on coddled wizzard kids in the last chapter came from, but I'm glad someone else agrees. on slayers... It's not them that have two power centers, it's buffy. for another slayer to have two power centers they would have to be a witch as well... whether or not there have been any and if this was the reason for Clause 75... well as with most things you find out when Buffy does. This chapter answers some of your questions regarding the scoobies._

_White Wolf - Buffy wont be going to the DA meeting at the pub..._

_Susan - sorry you dont find out yet. there's alot still to happen before you find out about her parents._

_goddessa39 - no Buffy wont get together with Neil. they're penpals. she just needs a reminder of home occasionally._

_Halric the Harmless - no I havent forgotten about buffys parents, but there is more to happen before i reveal it. and Buffy wont become friends with the trio for a while yet, but I'll try to give her some friends ok?_

_milo - be sure to point it out if you do find character flaws._

_wolfgirl - yeah the trio are a bit self centered... but so is buffy (despite the fact that I think I've made her less so than she is in the series)_

_sarah - glad you like my OC. Buffy will stay in touch with him, though I may only mention it sparodically._

_sparky24 - honest, I will give her friends soon. I just figure after all the distrust she's had since coming into the wizarding world, she'd be cautious about making friends._

_lizdarcy2 - still no ship planned. I'm not sure that there's really the time or likely candidates. perhaps if I do a sequel._

_Tonibo - again well done for reading this thing all the way through... _

_Just call me Blue, Crossover Addict, Angel17, Tommy14 - thanks for reviewing_

_**Homebound Dreams**_

Just the thought of writing home sent a thrill of warmth through her, Buffy felt more alone on returning to Hogwarts than she had since leaving Sunnydale. With the grief over Angel's loss slowly loosing it's edge, being surrounded by teenagers made her miss her home, and before she really thought about it a pen and paper were in her hands.

_'Dear Mom'_

Buffy paused, starring at the blank page, trying to conjure up the words that would remove the pain she knew her leaving must have caused the woman. 'I'm sorry' didn't seem enough to alleviate the hurt... the guilt that their final argument must have caused. Her eyes widened and for the first time when thinking of home she felt a shiver of fear.

To rid her mother of her guilt over Buffy's disappearance she would have to explain the real reason behind her flight from Sunnydale. The fight with her mother had been a part of it, those words were still something that caused her pain, but it was the combination of everything that happened that night which made her leave.

_'I'm sure Giles will have told you about slayers and what happened in the weeks before the night I left. Here's my version...'_

The pages she filled told not only of Angel but became an account of her whole time as a slayer, blurring over some specifics that might just make her mother more worried, but crystal clear in expressing her emotions throughout her exploits.

_'I hope you see it wasn't your words that made me leave, none of this is your fault. I can't tell you where I am or why I can't return, but I do know that another girl, another slayer, is coming to Sunnydale. Please look after her._

All my love,  
Buffy'

She finally paused her writing, looking over the pages. It felt so good to have it all down, to finally say everything that had been forced down within her for so long, it was almost a relief. To finally tell her secrets. To trust the woman that had taken her in, that had become more than a mother to her. But then she let herself really think. There was no way she could send the letter, for the same reasons she hadn't contacted her before leaving America. All it would do was raise more questions, add another level of pain. How would letting her mother know she was safe, but not where or with whom and, most importantly, not coming back really ease her sense of loss.

A sharp crackle of paper broke the silence in the room and Buffy looked down to find her letter crumpled into a tight ball within her hand. She couldn't send a letter to her mother. She couldn't send one to any of them. The people she had left behind on the mouth of hell.

If only she actually could send something to one of her friends: but what would she say? It wasn't like she could tell them the truth, tell them 'I can't come home right now; I found out I'm a witch so I've been deported.' There was no way that she could lie to her friends. They already knew so much about the mystical world that it seemed pointless to hide this, but after so long it only became harder to put pen to paper… or now quill to parchment, and tell them what had happened. Why she had left them. Why she had stayed away.

Why even now she wasn't certain that given the chance she would return there, to that life. Not that she wanted this magical world she had been forced into, but it had all become so much. More than a duty, more than a calling. It had overcome every part of her life causing only pain and anguish. Breaking hearts and bones.

She finally dragged herself into bed filled with worries at how her friends were coping, wondering if that slayer that Spike had mentioned really was there to protect them. She had no doubt that they would continue to try and keep the vampire population low. Buffy only hoped none of them had got badly hurt in the process… not that they needed to, she reminded herself. Because of her, Willow and Giles had already been seriously injured when she left.

* * *

_She walked up the familiar driveway, her vision slightly distorted by other images that kept pushing at the edge of her vision and gave the silence some strange echoes of sounds half heard. _

The door swung silently open as she reached up to it and the creaking step made no noise as she made her way up the stairs to the open doorway of a room only lit by the dim sunlight that streaked through the early morning clouds hanging low over the city. Soon the day's heat would drive away these final vestiges of the cooler night leaving the clear blue skies that she now missed so dearly. In the centre of a whirlwind of discarded garments sat a woman who seemed to be aging by the second, shaking in grief or shock as she stared blindly at her surroundings as if she couldn't believe that the room wasn't about to rearrange itself into some semblance of order. That the empty bed, still perfectly arranged beneath its mountain of clothing, would fill out to form a slumbering figure.

_The air shimmered, a voice drowned out the heart wrenching tears, a body of an unknown boy lying on lush grass. _

She was back in the same doorway but the room had changed, everything was back in its rightful place and seemed expectant, waiting for the room's occupant to return. All that is but the stuffed toy that was left haphazardly on the bedclothes, its damp fur evidence of recently shed tears. Turning form the doorway she caught sight of two figures standing at the bottom of the stairs. Both seemed to have aged quickly and recently, additional lines of worry defined, but not yet comfortable on their features, roots of hairs suddenly sprouting grey that hasn't had time to grow out and weary bodies wilting under the weight of new grief.

The man took off his glasses and started to clean them distractedly as he stammered through an explanation that the muffled sounds stopped the viewer at the top of the stairs from hearing as she moved noiselessly downwards

"No Buffy." the woman interrupted, trying to make it sound as if those two words don't crush hope she had still held on to that he had found what they were searching for.

"No vampires." He snorted in forced amusement, "Bunch of school kids in heavy mascara listening to extremely silly music."

"Well, thank you for going." She replied in a dull monotone, his attempt at humour completely missing its mark. She moved away from the door and wrapped her arms protectively around her chest "I can hardly, uh… I can hardly leave the house. I'm just afraid she'll call and she'll need my help." The pain in her eyes made it clear that she was even more afraid that Buffy wouldn't call, wouldn't need her help.

Failing to interpret the pain in the woman's features for what it was, the man attempted to console her, "Buffy is the most capable child I've ever known." He paused, sensing that his words weren't easing her grief, but unsure what to do but continue "I mean, she may be confused, unhappy, but I honestly believe she's in no danger."

"I just wish I could talk to her." raw pain could be heard under her suspiciously calm tone and her voice shook slightly as she continued "The last thing we did was fight."

_The air started to vibrate again, other voices coming through, but overlapped with an image of a cloaked figure shrouded in mist_ "Joyce, you mustn't blame yourself for her leaving." _Any reply was lost as more confusing visions assailed her._

She was standing near the bottom of the stairs just as the doorbell rang. Instinctively she moved to answer it, but found herself unable to pull the lock. The doorbell rang again.

"Coming" She turned just in time to move out of the way of the bustling figure, the soft lines of worry now firmly etched into the features and with long streaks of grey highlighting the dirty blonde locks. There was a momentary burst of hope in weary eyes as she saw the outline of a slighter figure behind the man until he stepped aside to reveal a sullen dark haired girl.

"Why…" Confusion momentarily overcame her disappointment as she looked down at the child.

Slowly and evenly with obvious pain at the finality of the end that the words would bring to his search, he explained, "I found Faith at the bus station in Phoenix." At the name of the city the woman first looked up sharply at the bespectacled eyes, then down at the girl barely into her teens who looked back with defiant eyes, daring her to comment on the tight revealing clothing and makeup that had been used to hide her age, a mask behind which she could hold the world in contempt.

"The Council's searching methods led me to Faith…" He paused allowing the meaning behind those words to sink in. Their final hope hadn't brought the girl that both of them loved as a daughter home. Seeming to weigh up his options, he once again reached the decision he had made on the long drive back from Arizona, "She'll need somewhere to stay while she's in Sunnydale…"

When the girl opened her mouth as if to speak he silenced her with a stern glance before fixing solemn eyes on the grieving mother. She needed to find out what a slayers life entailed and someone to fill the emptiness in the house that was just exponentially making matters worse.

"The…" she stumbled over the words as she tried to deal with both her grief and the new child that was suddenly being placed in her care, "the spare bed room's made up. Up the stairs, first door on the right." She looked kindly at the girl, "Do you want to take your stuff up?"

The girl looked doubtfully at the small duffle bag slung over her shoulder and the woman in the doorway, seeming unsure whether she should stay and for a moment seemed poised to run away from this house, away from these good-hearted adults who knew nothing about the reality that she had lived. She made up her mind and trudged up the stairs, not minding the dirt that her heavy boots left on the carpet.

Though she had known the answer from the moment he stepped back to reveal a brunette not a blonde, she had to ask, "Is there really no hope?"

_Moments folded together and her head started to ache with the pain of seeing dozens of different images at once, hearing so many conversations simultaneously that it sounded as if there was only one and that everyone taking part in it was shouting in an intelligible language. She was stunned by a sudden silence and then a laugh, a sound so different from any of the others she had heard._

"Okay then, chuck it over Xand." There was a loud slap as something heavy hit against skin.

There was a disappointed clucking sound, "Xander would you please not throw ancient texts across the room."

Even before she moved into the living room's doorway she could see the exact expression on the berated boys face, "Sure thing watcher-man, less of the football practice with books."

There were five figures seated at various points around the dining room and living room. An older man surrounded by books and notes that almost covered the dining room table, a redhead sitting comfortably between the legs of a slightly gaunt boy with bright blue hair looked equally studious though she occasionally leaned into his caressing massage. A lanky dark haired boy was sprawled on the sofa frowning petulantly at a comic book that was not very subtly hidden inside the pages of a large book, trying to ignore the laughter of the girl sitting cross legged in an arm chair with a heavy book in her lap.

"Right… who wanted chocolate?" The woman walked in with a tray, depositing a steaming cup of tea next to the man before moving into the living room…

* * *

A loud grumble forced Buffy into consciousness the scent of hot chocolate still filling her senses as she struggled against her body's urgings to awake. As the sound was repeated, she realised that it was coming from her, from her stomach to be more precise. She rolled out from beneath the covers and pulled aside the curtains, flinching back momentarily when bright sunlight met her from the south facing window. She had managed to have what even a normal person would count as a normal night's sleep, something she hadn't had in longer than she could remember.

As she made her way down to breakfast the last image of the dreams… the visions swam through her head. The scene, though active and comfortable had been tainted with a grief that Buffy knew her return could alleviate. The reality of seeing the effects of her absence, not merely imagining them was overwhelming.

It had been easier to believe that she might have been overrating her importance before observing what had happened without her. Easier to excuse her inability to contact her mother with memories of her final words before seeing her grief and seeing her acceptance of Faith's similar destiny.

The only thing that held her back from hijacking a broom right there and flying across the Atlantic regardless of wizarding rules was that alongside the scenes that she had seen in focus, the ones that showed her a past, present and future that was painful to witness, were alternate presents, alternate futures. Where she had never been found by wizards, where she had never left home, where she was in Sunnydale and not only did her own life fall apart, but she took her friends with her, shattering the group and their lives into pieces that could never quite fit together again like when a vase is broken and slivers are lost, leaving small gaps that cannot be filled.

Even further beneath the surface there had been other whisperings, even darker realities. _A flash of standing surrounded by enemies, a silver sword in her hand as she fought with no thoughts but of death. A glimpse of a large cat-like beast leaping towards her jaws wide open._ Visions which felt connected to her, connected to magic.

These reminded her that however bad the reality she had been shown might seem, however painful it was to let her family suffer – for despite the fact that none of the people in the scenes were related to her by blood, that's what they had become to her, even feeling a strange kinship to the slayer she'd never met that was there protecting her home – her return could only be as useful as a band-aid on an open chest wound. She would bring with her the terrors she had seen.

_A pool of blood spreading over the floor, empty eyes she knew she should recognise._

Entering the Great Hall Buffy looked around her as if seeing it for the first time. A pull that she didn't even realise had been there lifted from her, no longer tearing her soul in two with the difference of where it wanted to be and where it was. She would trust her friend's safety to the slayer she had seen, to Faith, and hope that when the world she had been born into finally let her leave; it would be safe to return. Her family were protected. That was what mattered. With a new lightness of spirit she sat down to a much needed meal.


	26. Walks with a Wolf

_**WordCount:**- 51,769_

_**A/N:**- Any of you who havent yet, you might want to go back and read the NEW chapter 25. This is an altered and extended version of thechapter posted on the 18th Jul as 25 with a changed name... Okay now re: reviews... I'm not really sure how to answer those that were about the previous posting of this chapter as it'd give things away to anyone who hasn't read it, so I'll reply to specific questions in reviews of Ch 25 from between 19th and 28th in the next chapter... does that work?_

_In the mean time thanks to Allen Pitt, Alex, Uhm.What, Susan, tina7610813, Ambs, Just Me and Sarah for reviewing. And an even bigger thanks to __Toniboo, kirt, sparky24, XinnLaigin, WhiteWolf 3, Darklight, E.A.V and goddessa39 for reviewing on my birthday! To those of you that asked, thanks: I had a great trip though it's good to be home and have a keyboard of my own (...well kinda anyway... updates might not be as frequent as possible as my laptop keyboard has decided to pack it in - damn sony - and so I have to beg use of my sisters computer). I spent a day ignoring the Italian scenery engrossed in HBP to come away, if not satisfied at least full of new ideas and excited to write. hope you all enjoyed it._

_mc2rpg - true there are many differences between Harry and Buffy, but as well as being better off than buffy there are waysin whichhe's had a worse time - notably his childhood and the age that he started his fight against voldemort. Buffy wontbecome close friends with Harry as I think that, like the scoobies, the trio is a hard friendship to break into. as you said they'd never have instant friendship with someone they dont trust - one of the reasons she wont be invited to the DA meeting in the hogs head._

_Chooser of the Slain - nice to know. It's always nice to hear from reviewers who've been reading this all along._

_Susan - soon enough? glad the fates went down well... they are a bit of a strange addition_

_Realm9 - befriending Luna? hmm... I'll think about it..._

_Selene12 - please never be anything but honest in your reviews... I really dont mind constructive criticism and it's good to know whn I'm mangling things up a bit. I know the last two chapters were kind of filler, probably even more annoying in being so for being so drawn out, but there were some things that needed to be said in them... the story will begin to move a bit faster now and yeah __as I said I think the fates are mainly caused by time in greece and a childhood love of those myths... sorry but you can kind of take or leave that paragraph as, like you said, it doesnt really add to plot in any way... I'm kinda astounded that you thought my dialogue was enough early on in the story as I've always thought that was my failing as a writer (you might have noticed that it's thechapters with alot of dialogue that take longest for me to write). anyway this reply was probably more confusing than the last 2 chapters, but let me know what you think of this one._

_Anne - well that chapter was only meant to be a scene at the start of this one, but it got too long and I liked how this one started. there will be some more buffy/trio interaction in the next chapter (if it goes as planned)_

_Ambs - glad you like it, and in reply to your earlier review there will be some action soon of the slaying kind._

_CharmedChick - wonderfulness?... not sure I can live up to that_

_and on with the chapter... for those of you that have read this before it's pretty much the same up until when they go into the room._

_**Walks with a Wolf**_

Buffy waited in the small courtyard at 11-o'clock. The place named as the meeting point for her 'tutor' in the letter she had received at breakfast was used only as a direct route from classrooms indoors to the greenhouses that were used in Herbology so at mid-morning on a grim Saturday the petite blonde was the only thing to disturb the silence of the paved area besides the whispers of the wind traveling through nearby trees. Since she had stepped outside, she felt like there was a coiled spring straining for release within her, causing a restless awareness that prevented her from relaxing on the wooden benches spotted about the area.

A door slammed shut, blown closed quicker than had been intended by the brisk wind that sailed by. The glass panes in the windowed door rattled due to the abruptness with which it had shut. The sound caused an immediate reaction in the slayer; she turned around as quickly as a startled animal. Though not getting into a fighting pose her stance shifted so that she was on the balls of her feet, knees slightly bent and the arms that had been hugging around her slim waist as a form of protection from the chill of British weather fell to her sides; seemingly relaxed but muscles taught and ready. To most she would have looked like an innocent woman-child a girl in the midst of becoming an adult meekly awaiting acknowledgement, but the man that had come to meet her had traveled too far, had too many scars to fail to notice that she was battle ready.

Deep within him he felt the familiar urge rise up in his chest, the animal within had sensed a fellow predator in the girl and the beast fought to be released, to prove his dominance. This place had been claimed by him decades ago and something in him demanded permission to defend its refuge. He forced down the whisperings. There were only certain times when he was unable to resist that call and it wasn't now. There was only one thing that shocked him about the call; despite its demands for a fight, the beast was afraid.

The Slayer clamored to be released, refusing to allow Buffy to relax. It's within him the monster stirs. Then suddenly the insistent pull dimmed and she could focus more clearly on the man in front of her. He, as well as the feelings her slayer senses were still sending her, was eerily familiar. Searching her memory Buffy came up with the answer at the same time that recognition flashed into hazel eyes.

"You're the one on the platform!"

To any outsider observing their meeting it would seem that they both spoke almost immediately after they turned to face one another, mere seconds being used to assess one another, for each of the beings buried deep within the seemingly harmless and fragile shells to answer questions that their conscious minds didn't even know were being asked. Both parties relaxed, their respective demons retreating as each acknowledged that this was a fight that would await another day.

"Do you have it under control?"

After the intensity of their meeting he knew he shouldn't be shocked, but nevertheless he was surprised to see compassion and understanding in her eyes, not the fear he had become used to. It amazed him that somehow this girl, in two looks and as many sentences had made him feel more accepted and somehow normal than even his friends at school had. He closed his eyes, feeling into the part of him where the monster slept and nodded as he opened his eyes. She had somehow managed to relax even that brute.

"I don't want to assume he's the only British werewolf, but you're Professor Lupin? Right?"

He winced slightly, thinking of the reputation that he had left behind at this school. In spite of being loved as a teacher, Snape's careful revelations about the night that Petigrew had escaped had made sure to reveal the follies of the werewolf in full and some of his students still cringed from him if they met on the street.

"I'm not a Professor any more, and you are Miss Summers."

"Buffy" She immediately corrected. He looked at her sharply for a moment then nodded. "and I am Remus."

They stood awkwardly for a moment. Having just all but sniffed one another in an animalistic greeting, shaking hands seemed pointless. Buffy eventually broke the impasse by bowing her neck to him as she would do to Giles before they sparred. Recognizing the gesture for the sign of respect it was, the werewolf returned it with a smile.

Out of the corner of her eyes Buffy caught a flash of movement in one of the windows on the first floor that overlooked the courtyard. Looking back to Lupin she saw in the slightly startled look that he had also realized that they were being observed.

"We should move to a more private location." He murmured in his slightly horse but calming voice.

Buffy nodded and moved to the door, for some reason finding herself trusting the werewolf with sad and tired eyes which nevertheless contained a vibrancy that contradicted his gaunt face and graying hair. Despite both her fears that these lessons might lead to disclosure of her secrets and hopes that they might help her understand the power that stirred inside her, she hadn't expected to feel such a strong connection to the person that Dumbledore had sent to train her. Thinking of the Headmaster made her remind herself that regardless of her instincts, Lupin was here at his bidding and couldn't be entirely trusted.

Moving to pass by him and make her way into the building she felt a hand on her shoulder gently stopping her in her tracks.

"Not that way." amusement shone in his eyes as he turned from her without answering her inquiring look. He led her around the edge of the school past the turn to the Greenhouses. For a moment she was worried that he was presumptuous enough to take them into the forest. She would be safe, but without help from the werewolf within there was no way this frail man could defend himself against everything in the wood, wizard or not. She relaxed slightly when he rounded the corner of the castle around so that they were facing away from the forest, following along the wall.

Lupin finally stopped alongside a lone window at ground level in the wall. Over the glass were numerous iron bars crossing with about a hands width between them. He placed his hands carefully on the bars at a strange angle to one another and simultaneously twisted the bars. A whole section of the wall around the window swung inwards, seams in the stonework appearing out of nowhere to form a doorway leading into a dark passage.

As they stepped over the threshold torches on the walls burst into flame lighting a short passage that, Buffy guessed, merely took them through the thick walls of the castle. They came to a wide spiral staircase and Lupin paused before stepping onto it.

"This stairway is protected. Follow my steps precisely as on some steps you have to stand on a specific stone."

They made their way up the stairs, Lupin warning her before they took any of the steps that she had to take care on. They finally reached a landing, but unfortunately he didn't stop there but immediately climbed the staircase that wound further up. After the first couple of 'special' steps on the second staircase, Buffy noticed that they were following the same pattern that they had on the first one. There must be a pattern. She started to mentally note each stone they needed to stand on. By the end of the third flight of stairs she had them all figured out and no longer needed prompting to step in the correct places.

On the first step they stepped on the sixth stone from the wall, then on the fifth it was the fourth stone they had to tread on. There was a gap until the fourteenth and fifteenth steps where they stepped on the fifth and second stones respectively. On the eighteenth step they stood on the first stone and on the twenty third, the third. Each landing was exactly twenty five stairs from the previous one. Buffy thought about the sequence, sure that there must be a pattern to the sequence of numbers or they wouldn't repeat continually.

Twenty five steps… one, five, fourteen, fifteen, eighteen, twenty three…

Buffy tried to remember the tricks Willow had for the number games she had tried to interest the reluctant student with, and, even after giving up that as a lost cause, the redhead had often voiced her thoughts out loud as she mulled through a particularly difficult problem. She was so busy thinking through the numbers that she failed to notice when she reached the fourth landing and the part of her brain that had been counting the steps continued to 'twenty six' as she stepped onto the forth landing.

In a flash of inspiration she realized what it had been that she was missing. It wasn't twenty five but twenty six steps… they were letters, no doubt making up some sort of password. She counted through the alphabet figuring out the letters that corresponded to the steps as she made her way up to the fifth landing.

A… E… N, O… R… W…

Buffy frowned. The letters made no sense whatsoever. Perhaps she was wrong and it was just a random pattern devised to trick anyone attempting to come up the staircase. Coming out onto the seventh landing they finally finished their climbing and Lupin lead Buffy through a solid doorway into a room that was filled with such a bright light in comparison to the dull flame lit stairwell that she was momentarily blinded.

Her eyes quickly adjusted to the light and she saw that they were in a large studio like room. The huge north facing windows that seemed to covered top to bottom the entire outward wall of the room arching as they neared to ceiling pulled whatever light there was from the dull sky and lit even the furthest corners of the room. Some of the lower windows, taller than most men, stood open to allow fresh air to enter the unused room.

Opposite the door they had entered by was a magnificent fireplace with a black marble mantle with a pair of leather armchairs and a long couch arranged in front of it. It took Buffy a while to figure out why the room seemed so familiar with a massive desk at one end and beautiful paneling on the walls. It was when she stepped forward to examine the fireplace that she saw an image that in her months in the castle had become as well-known as the photos that had littered her home in Sunnydale.

Spanning the full width of the impressive fireplace was a large iron grate that, already containing a crackling fire, resembled the skeleton of a dying ship, reminiscent of the Vikings funeral practices. But it wasn't this that had caught Buffy's eye. On the inside of the chimney breast was a sheet of polished bronze that somehow repelled the soot of centuries, shaped expertly ob the wall behind the fire to picture an eagle in flight. The light of the flames on the metal made the bird almost seem alive, like a phoenix rising out from the blaze, but to any Ravenclaw it would be recognizable as the bird made immortal in the statue that guarded their common room.

The room was what the Ravenclaw common room would look like as a private room, more spacious and airy as it only had to have work space for a single occupant and comfortable seating for the occasional guest. On each side of the desk, which stood near the back of the room facing the windows, were stairs curving up to a wide landing on the southern wall and centrally behind the desk was a portrait of a young girl, barely out of her teens.

From the landing extended two wrought iron staircases which seemed to be supported by the air itself as they wound and intertwined on their separate journeys to doorways high near the ceiling, one on the southern corner of east wall and the other on the west. At the back of the landing was a set of double doors shut firmly against further observation. Somehow the raised space had a decidedly more private feel than the open study she was standing in, causing Buffy to look away from the southern end of the room.

Lupin allowed her to take in the amazing space; it was perfect in both its intricacy and simplicity, with the sparse furniture and lack of extravagant decoration that might have marred the delicate designs of the iron in the windows and stairs or beautiful carving of the mantle.

"I don't think we'll be observed here. I'm not sure even Dumbledore knows about it."

"Where…" Buffy asked quietly, worried that a loud voice would disturb the serenity of the room.

"Where are we?"

"Rowena Ravenclaw's private quarters."

Buffy had known that the room had some sort of connection to her house, but its belonging to it's founder seemed unbelievable.

"But that was…" she tried to work out the rooms age in her head.

"1000 years ago? This room, as was the rest of the castle, was constructed by Rowena Ravenclaw. Strong enough to imbue the stones themselves with magic, she was more than powerful and knowledgeable enough to protect her home through the millennia."

He could see more questions flutter through her mind as she digested this information, once more scanning the room before her eyes locked onto his own, curiosity not entirely sated but acceptant of the explanation for now. He once again felt the power of her gaze that seemed to strip him back to his bare soul and lay judgement on what it saw there. His own curiosity flared and he couldn't stop himself from asking the question that sprung into his mind.

"How did you know what I am?"

The intensity of the gaze multiplied exponentially, weighing his soul as the frightened girl decided whether to trust him. He seemingly passed the test, as she decided to answer carefully "One of my friends from school was bitten."

"A friend from Sunnydale?" His voice, if possible, grew more horse in his shock and he felt a twinge of pity for the other werewolf "How do they cope with the change on a Hellmouth?" he asked wonder and pity mixed in his tone.

Before he realised what he'd said he noticed the fear that had suddenly entered both the girl's eyes and stance. The same fire that had been there before flaring ready for fight or flight. He continued as if he hadn't noticed; hoping that the sound of an even voice would return her sense of peace.

"I was near one once when the full moon came" he winced, his features creasing along well worn lines at the remembered pain, looking straight through Buffy into his memory of a moonlit night as he continued "It gives the curse more power. I was more beast than man or even wolf that night."

When she had calmed enough to find her voice she asked "How do you know about Hellmouths… I haven't seen them in any books"

He looked at her sharply at her easy use of the term "And you won't. The term is used usually by dark creatures and shunned by wizards, but" he smiled amiably as he continued "It's much easier to say than 'Areas of increased dark magic and demonic activity' though even the existence of those isn't accepted by most of the wizarding population. As a 'dark creature' myself, it's a lot easier to acknowledge the truth to some things that wizards consider myths" He said this last phrase staring at her with such an intensity that she feared for a moment that he had figured her out, that he was going to reveal her. But then the moment was gone and the passionate eyes were once again dancing cheerfully in the weary face.

"Enough talk though, I'm here to help you to control your other half… though as you are undoubtedly not a werewolf the techniques I teach you may not work in your case."

She settled down as he indicated, cross legged on the wooden floor in front of the tall windows. "I have found that there really is no way to completely control my other side. To prevent massive magic overflows the power has to be used in the way it was created for. The werewolf's power is usually used up on the nights around the full moon during the transformation, but this can become more volatile close to the full moon when the power is recharged from the previous month and as yet unused." The monotony of his breathy whispers and tranquillity of the room helped to once again ease Buffy into a relaxed state, forgetting her recent fears. "To prevent this happening I found a way to release this excess magic. To do this you first have to find where it is stored within you, reach inwards to the well of your power and take the extra that will otherwise get released uncontrollably."

Buffy listened, more to his voice than his words, as he spoke of some meditation techniques that were scarily similar to those taught to her by Giles to help her use and control her slayer abilities. What most hit her from the speech was that first sentence. In order to use up the magic she would have to slay. The thought of once more fulfilling the duty that had seemed so often dull and arduous in Sunnydale excited her more than she cared to admit; pent up energy eager to get out and unused muscles craving the burn of a fight. The only problem was how to get out of the castle at night now that there were even more teachers around the school to spot her exit.

_**A/N:**- sorry about the extensive description of the room, but when I think things out I like to write them down. I might post a plan on the website at some point. I haven't read PoA in a while so let me know if Lupin seems OOC._

_**A/N-22.08.05:**- I know I haven't updated for a while and am sorry to hold you all in suspense. I became an Aunt on the 9th and adoring my Nephew has taken up alot of my time.I've nowmoved up to my Unibut my laptops being repairedI haven't got muchaccess to computers. My comp should come back later this week and I'll try to update before the end of the month but I've also been finding it hard to write the scene where Buffy meets the trio - I tend to take time over first meetings to try and get the characterisation right._

_Do any of those bad (and not so bad) excuses make you forgive me for taking so long? I hope so. LGIxx_


	27. Unexpected Reunions

_**WordCount:**- 54,621_

_**A/N:**- My excuses for the lateness of this chapter are in a A/N at the end of the last one. Feel free to ignore them and continue to be annoyed at my delayed updating if you wish. The next chapter shouldn't take too long. I have a scene at the begining to write but the rest is up and ready._

_Shabopo - Remember Snape investigating her past? He knew about her being wanted for murder he has to know about her being from Sunnydale. It's not as if she ever tried to hide _who _she is... just _what.

_XinnLajgin - sorry if I'm repeating things... the next comming chapters will start to have some new things in them._

_Allen Pitt - I did want to give Faith a bit of a chance... you're right Lupin wouldn't definately make the jump from Sunnydale to slayer... and it's not as if there isn't still a Slayer about - there's only meant to be one after all. Her slayerness comes out after she finds out who she is. hmmm... buffy beathing up the trio in their cloak... it does sound like fun._

_Selene12 - I'm actually begining to think your right... I might get rid of the bit about greek mythology... I'm so glad that you like my dialogue, it does get thought through alot, but mainly because I find it hard to write (why do you think the chapters where she meets people are always the longest to get posted?). I'm chuffed that you've reviewed my story so much... as I think I keep saying - it's the reviews that make it all worth it._

_Toniboo - the finding out about her parents won't happen for a while, but I'll try and give a hint soon k?_

_Ambs - one chapter after this then you get some slaying alright? I just hope I can write fight scenes ok..._

_Just Me - meeting with the trio coming right up_

_sparky24 - well I've got to force her to slay somehow..._

_susan - review1 -__funny that you should wonder how she gets out without being caught... re: her gifts... well in part she's trying to hide them because that's what she's always done - she's not used to running around at full slayer speed everywhere or beating up on every normal person that pisses her off. the other reason is that everyone's suspicious enough of her as it is without making them terrified of her power as well... also just because wizarding society doesn't talk about slayers doesn't mean that wizards that battle the dark arts havent heard of them - probably thinking of them as a monsters fairytale like the initiative did. it wouldnt be a good thing for buffy if the rumours got proved true. __-review2- let me know what's been confusing you and I'll try to change it but I should warn you... anything not in the actual story text (and even occasionally that) is subject to constant change so even though my replies willalways be true at the time... I have in the past mont completsly changed some bits of the story... -review3- sorry. you know why -review4 - I take it that I'm forgiven? yay. My nephew is called Arthur and is the cutest lil thing (he's the only baby I've seen that I'm directly related to so of course I think he's the most adorable baby ever). I'm so crushed that now I wont be seeing him till xmas (I'm already up at uni). on another note - I'm amazed that anyone likes this story enough to review 4 times... and thanks for giving me a kick up the arse and reminding me to sit at a keyboard._

_Chicklepea - straight walls? proportion? what's the point in that as long as you know what you mean._

_Crazy-VampireSlayer - Lupin will be popping in and out (I love his character so much), but if you remember what happens in the second week of Harry's fifth year, you'll realise why he won't be around too often._

_spk - I have no plans to abandon this fic and it is pretty much thought through to the end (with some scenes near the end already writtten) so I should at least finish this year, even if I don't have time to dobook six as well._

_Uhm.What, __steffles24, Chooser of the Slain, kitcat, _

_**Unexpected Reunions**_

The time passed in trickles and bursts, some of the exercises in magic control seeming to stretch into infinity while mere moments passed, while other times she would come out of a meditation that she had only thought took minutes to find that the sun had jumped across the sky. Buffy didn't seem to be able to reach the slayer, the power when she found it didn't behave in the way that Remus described his inner wolf; as a dormant well. She would catch a particle of it in her mind, but then it would trickle through her fingers as she attempted to hold on to it. The energy infusing her entire body not stationary; it was the strength in her muscles, the adrenaline in her bloodstream. It was a part of every cell of her body, giving her the strength and skill to beat back the darkness.

The light from the windows had dimmed with approaching dusk by the time they quitted the room, Lupin looking even more drained than he had earlier as if the effort involved in the lessons had drained some of the life out of him adding years to his already aged features. They exited the stairwell through the doorway on the forth floor which swung back quickly after their exit, the sealed doorway hidden behind a graphic picture that looked like it should belong in a DADA textbook with helpful passages nearby on where to find and how to defeat it though Buffy mused, something this gruesome would never be in Slinkhard's dry book on the subject.

The background of the picture was pitch black, drawing the eye into eternity but trapped in the foreground just visible in a deep blue light, so dark that the light itself seemed to have shadows, was a corpse lying awkwardly against what looked like some kind of rock. The skin was pulled tight over bony features paper thin and pale in the way that no creature with blood flowing through their veins can ever truly be. The fact that it was a corpse didn't worry Buffy; she had seen enough of them in her time in Sunnnydale. It was the way it turned its head as if to keep her in the view of its hollow sightless eyes that was slightly disconcerting.

At the end of the corridor that Buffy recognised as a route from the library down to the classrooms on the third floor. Though shorter than other corridors in similar directions, it was little used due to the nature of the stairs which would refuse to appear for every forth person to climb them leaving you to either attempt to scale banisterless invisible stairs with a twenty foot drop beneath your feet and some trick steps, or take the other way around. As most students opted to just go for the second option without bothering to find out if they'd be lucky enough to see the stairs, the corridor was empty of anyone but Buffy and Lupin.

He had continued along the corridor towards the dreaded staircase without noticing that Buffy was still preoccupied with the picture.

"Why didn't we come in through here?"

He turned to see her looking with interest at the frame of the picture, trying to figure out how to get the door open again.

"I don't know how to open the doors." She turned from the portrait to look at him, wondering how he knew about the room at all if he could only get in from outside. Partially answering her unasked question, he continued "The door outside isn't as well guarded as these. I think it was a crude later addition creating a loophole in the protection of Rowena's study. To open the doors onto the stairwell you have to know the password, and none of the pictures are exactly of people you could just coax a clue out of." He indicated the corpse that was now stumbling towards the foreground of the picture.

Buffy was still thinking about the doorways when Lupin stopped on the second floor. She had hardly thought about him leaving merely enjoying the companion that in both his British cordiality and depth of knowledge reminded her of her Watcher and when he held out his hand, about to leave, she felt a pang of loneliness.

"It was… enlightening to meet you Buffy." He smiled at her "I'm sure Dumbledore will arrange another session soon."

The sudden tightness in her chest left her as she realised he would be back. It had been a relief to be around someone who, even though – she hoped – he didn't know what she was, knew what it was to be different and definitely understood the subtle barrier it creates between you and… the rest of humanity. She paused for a moment to watch him disappear around a corner before continuing to the Great Hall, her slayer metabolism berating her for having missed lunch.

Seated at the Ravenclaw table half listening to a group of fifth years chatter as she ate when she paused mid forkful sensing a presence that, after a day spent trying to connect to her slayerness in his company, she couldn't fail to recognise. Through a small doorway behind the staff table emerged Dumbledore head turned backwards as he added a remark to his conversation with Lupin. At the appearance of the werewolf Buffy saw a couple of the students nearby flinch slightly and edge as far away as was possible when confined by the filled benches of the hall.

A student in Hufflepuff fell back off his seat when, after stretching back to see around his contemporaries to see what the fuss was about, he was startled by the sight of his ex-Professor. But these reactions were nothing in comparison to the change in Delores Umbridge that occurred the moment Lupin walked in the door. A look of profound disgust settled onto her features and she started to take shallower breaths as if she couldn't bear to be breathing the same air as the werewolf.

If anything the expression only deepened when Dumbledore conjured a chair in between his and hers and invited Lupin to be seated barely noticing the eerie silence in the hall.

"… and the house elf said to the…"

As the Headmaster moved to sit down, Professor McGonagall, seated on his other side put a hand lightly on his arm and he stopped halfway through his joke and looked up at the attentive students, then to where the werewolf was now sitting. He stood back up fully and addressed the hall.

"As most of you know, this is Mr Lupin. I asked him to visit the school today to assist me with a problem and, as you see, he will be dining with us this evening." Seeming to think that this was enough to explain the sudden reappearance of a Professor that had left in such disgrace, he sat back down and picked up a bowl, dishing some out onto his own plate before looking enquiringly towards Lupin.

"Beef Stroganoff, Remus?" at his refusal Dumbledore looked past him to Umbridge "Delores?" she took the dish still glowering at the Headmaster for inviting a half-breed to dine next to her. When she passed the dish further along the table she used the opportunity to shift her seat further away from Lupin, flinching away whenever he came close to her air space.

The students had remained silent for a while after their Headmaster sat down and then slowly conversations trickled in until it reached it's normal racket in which Buffy couldn't distinguish any but the conversations close around her from the rabble. She attempted to hone in on the conversation between Lupin and Dumbledore, interested to know what he had to say about her. Unfortunately she couldn't hear through the surrounding noise and eventually gave up, deciding that it was doubtful anyway that the headmaster would discuss it in such a public place and near to the obviously distrusting DADA Professor.

Later that evening as most of the students were settling down in their common rooms, Buffy walked through the silent corridors towards the courtyard through which she had exited the school earlier that day. As she walked down the stairs towards the Entrance Hall she heard voices echoing through the vast room.

"…you should hear the stories about what she did on a broom… mainly first years exaggerating but it definitely flew out of control…"

"On an old school Shooting Star as well; they've got so many safety charms it's amazing that they get off the ground let alone do _that_"

"Oh and supposedly she was deported back here…"

"Yeah, the kid of a Death Eater that ran. They put her parents in Azka… Ouch."

"Ron, you know that's just a rumour. Her story is strange though… it's very rare that a School aged child should be expelled form a country, and she has lessons with every fourth and fifth year class but ours."

Finally a voice chipped in that she recognised "You can't be talking about…" Lupin had finally realised who it was that the trio had set their suspicions on this year when he was interrupted.

"Me."

The trio were all facing the front doors and so hadn't seen Buffy come down the stairs and all jumped when she spoke; turning with varying degrees of suspicion and anger on their faces. Lupin however managed to precede any remarks that the red faced Ron could make when he greeted her.

"Buffy, how are you? Have you recovered well from our session today?"

All three of the Gryffindors turned simultaneously to look at their ex-Professor at his friendly greeting of one of the two people that they had been regarding with suspicion since the beginning of term. Then it clicked, Buffy could see Hermione's mind working as she put together private lessons with a werewolf with all the other strange occurrences and Harry's scarred forehead creased in annoyed contemplation.

"Wha?… You?... She…" Ron looked back and forth between Buffy and their ex-Professor obviously not understanding.

"You didn't tell us _she _was the reason you're here." Harry's voice that had been almost animated as he talked of his suspicions and grievances had become harsh, cold and judgemental and anger flashed in his eyes from behind his glasses.

"Harry…" Hermione attempted to admonish him but failed to think of any real rebuff that wouldn't give away to the Ravenclaw just how closely she had looked into her at Harry's insistence. He seemed to have taken at least a few of the fake Moody's words to heart and was careful about trusting any unknowns.

"Harry." Lupin's sharp tone halted any more of the boy's words in a way that Hermione's disapproving tirades ever could as it was such a rarer sound. "It is none of your concern that I was here to see Buffy. It has nothing to do with you… and just as I wouldn't tell her of what we speak of in private I will not betray her confidence." At the last sentence he had turned to Hermione, she had obviously remembered that Dumbledore had said Lupin was here to help solve a problem and was alive with questions that she had no real need to ask, wondering if Buffy _had_ a problem… or _was _the problem.

"But she's conspiring with Umbridge, Fudge sent her here to…"

Ron saw the sharp looks he was receiving from both Lupin and Hermione and trailed off his rant and glanced warily in Buffy's direction who was ignoring the Gryffindors as she looked properly at her tutor's face. "I'm fine… but you look terrible..."

The other three students looked at Lupin for the first time that evening as a person not their ex-Professor who could help them out and managed to see what she had; the taught lines around the face and sunken eyes that betrayed his exhaustion.

"It's been a tough week" he nodded through the open doors of the Great Hall where, amongst the clouds that drifted across the ceiling to mirror others doing the same outside, a waning moon shone in the sky.

"I'm sorry" She reached up, wanting to will away the pain and loneliness that was etched on his features as he looked at the bane of his existence, but pulled back as she saw the Gryffindors ready themselves to protect one that they thought of as their own form any harm that this stranger intended to inflict.

Before the others, she heard the crackle of wheels on gravel as a carriage made its way up the long drive, and had turned to face the main doors long before the demonic beasts pulled up outside them.

"Looks like your ride's here." Buffy stepped back as he bade his farewells to the trio; reminding Harry to "not hesitate to write if you have any problems." At this the boy stepped forward from where he had been hanging back since Buffy's arrival and opened his mouth as if to speak, before he remembered Buffy and, sending her an angry look, waved a detached goodbye to the Professor.

Left alone in the Entrance Hall there was a moment's awkward silence as the coach drove out of sight. Unperturbed by the vicious glares she was receiving as they were nothing in comparison to the looks she'd had in abundance from vampires, Buffy moved towards the door.

"Well, fun as this is, I'll be off now."

As Buffy had just pulled open the door to the corridor that lead to the courtyard she heard a sharp voice behind her. "Where are you going?" Hermione snapped, and Buffy turned, her hand still on the door knob to see the now familiar eyes staring suspiciously at her.

"Is that really your business?" Buffy narrowed her eyes, annoyed by the unwarranted prying, and the stare that had frightened many Vampires and Demons elicited an immediate effect on the girl.

"Well… uh…" She stuttered, then averted her eyes from Buffy's as she thought before looking directly back into the gaze triumphantly "yes actually. It's almost curfew and I'm a Prefect. It's my job to check that students are in their rooms on time."

She raised her eyebrow at the righteous anger in front of her "What about those two?" she pointed at Hermione's companions.

"Ron's a prefect too" the boy puffed out his chest at Buffy as if the prefect badge would act as some kind of deterrent for her "and Harry… well Harry…"

"…has never followed School rules when they didn't suit him." They all turned to find Snape coming out of the stairs that lead down into the dungeon. "And since neither of the Gryffindor fifth year prefects are on the rota for patrolling the corridors tonight" he looked pointedly at Ron and Hermione, dissipating any excuse they might have been forming "I think all of you should go back to your common rooms." The Gryffindors rushed up the stairs before Snape could deduct any points from their house, and Buffy started to follow the others when the Professor grabbed her arm in a tight grip.

"Where _were_ you off to Miss Summers?" Snape sneered at her, dragging her off the steps. She saw his eyes widen then narrow in glee as he caught sight of colour beneath her robes and tried to pull away from him as he flicked them back, revealing the comfortable trousers and bright shirt that she had put on to slay in that night. "And out of uniform… well that'd better be twenty points from Ravenclaw" He turned her so she could see thesapphire grains trickle upwards out of the bottom bulb of the hourglass that counted their house points.

"Sir, if you don't let go I won't make it back in time." Buffy stared blankly into the dark eyes as she gently, well at least gently for a slayer, removed his hand from her.

"Yes…" Snape sneered "I'm_ sure_ you wouldn't want that." He reluctantly stepped away from her into a less threatening position "I hope you realise that your night time wanderings will not be tolerated now that the School is back in session?"

Buffy merely stared back at the man until he cringed slightly and looked away, then turned and walked calmly up the stairs. Just as she got out of a normal persons hearing range she heard him start in surprise.

"Ah… Filch, I have a suspicion that our foreign student may be walking about out of hours… keep an eye out will you?"

Her heart sank as she listened to the man's snivelling as he agreed to keep a look out for her. Getting out of the castle at night had just become harder than she'd thought it would be. It wasn't until she had reached her bed and collapsed into it that her thoughts travelled back from the problem of getting past Snape and Filch to the conversation she had overheard between the four Gryffindors. She sat up with a start. How had they known about her?

_**A/N:**- a cookie to whoever guesses how she gets out of the castle without being seen..._


	28. Sliding Stairwells

_**WordCount:**- 57,053_

_**A/N:**- the wait was due to the first pgh... I still don't like it so this chapter might be changed at some point. I just didn't want to keep everyone waiting.__Just a lil reminder to everyone: It is currently the first sunday of term... Okay, prizes for being right goes to: Just Me, Caz92, Darklight, Chicklepea, SpikesDreamer have a cyber cookie all of you. _

_XinnLajgin - sorry this is just how long I write them._

_Just Me - yes with time Buffy will be less hated by the trio... if you remember what happens in the book on the second monday then... well they have more important things to start worrying about._

_spike10101 - I've seen fic where buffy/some slayer has that kinda power and I really love it as an idea (Buffy has it in Chosen... well the later chapters that aren't up yet anyway) but I've already given her way too many powers in this story... it gets dull if she's completely unbeatable._

_goddessa39 - sorry about the wait... and sorry but all your suggestions are wrong... read on._

_Darklight - Buffy will make friends - first week remember - give her(or me) some time k? personally i think that both Giles and Joyce would be unable to not care for someone as messed up as faith - they're both just too nice people, and that kinda goes for the scoobies too. yes she would be compared to Buffy, but no more than she was anyway in s3 and then she stayed (barring the occasional walkabout)._

_can-i-help - ish? let me know if there's anything wrong... I have just been reading over some of it and at points I'm amazed at how bad (and very occasionally how good) my writing is so let me know if there's anything wrong. congratulations for the most disterbing idea of how buff could get out of school._

_Gylzgurl - yes... eventually all will be revealed._

_Chicklepea - hmmm... now that would be telling..._

_SpikesDreamer - Thanks!_

_Jamesite - Thanks for pointing out my error... That's always helpful and appreciated. I know I'm not too good at the wit... anyway Buffy wasn't too jokey at the start of S3 so I'll let it come when she's more cheery._

_Selene12, Boy of Enders, Susan - I do appreciate your reviews... sorry I cant think of anything interesting to say..._

_**Sliding Stairwells**_

At breakfast the next morning she noticed what had escaped her the night before at dinner when her mind had been distracted by first thoughts of her lessons with Lupin, then by the presence of the man himself. The other houses whisperings were interceded with glances across at the Ravenclaw table, at her.

Three fifth year boys sat across the table from her and Anthony nudged one of the other two who was staring at her with a strange expression. The boy started and looked nervously at the prefect before turning to Buffy.

"I… uh. Tony says you're ok, and he wanted me to tell you…" He looked for moral support to the boy next to him. Who rolled his eyes and continued for his friend. "There are lots of rumours going around school about why you left America… they say you were thrown out because your parents were run away Death Eaters…" the boy shifted nervously in his seat failing to make any eye contact with her "and that's why you stayed here all summer… they got chucked in Azkaban…"

Anthony interrupted "There are even more: you're a spy for the American Bureau… I even heard someone claim you were really a mermaid hit by a spell." He laughed, though it sounded a little forced. "I just thought you should know. As far as I can tell they started off with someone saying you were chucked out of America because you were a murder suspect… or adopted or something."

It was lucky that all the time with Snape had helped her learn how to keep a good poker face while receiving shocking news, but she couldn't stop herself from looking sharply at Anthony. Thankfully the boy merely took her shock to be that anyone would suspect such a thing of her, making the same mistake that many a Vampire and Demon had done and thinking that her slight build meant she was defenceless.

Buffy sat in thought for a moment, before realising that they expected her to try to refute the claims. "It's true that I'm adopted… but I don't know who my real parents were… or particularly care." Her voice had risen in anger, gaining the attention of those sitting around them and she paused awkwardly, not used to speaking about one of the few things that she kept so close to her chest.

Anthony interrupted "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to…" he glared at the others looking their way, forcing them to avert their stares in embarrassment "I just thought you should know what's being said."

They sat for a while longer in an awkward silence, the other two boys obviously uncomfortable with the attention they were receiving due to sitting near her and they were obviously relieved when she stood up and left. Even before she had left the hall they were enjoying being the centre of attention as they added even more embellishments to rumours.

She spent most of the morning secluded in the Library, trying to think of ways out of the school even as she worked on the seemingly endless essays that were due in the following week. She was joined for a while by some of the fifth year Ravenclaw girls, but when they gave up fishing for information they soon left her alone to her work. After lunch, with no other ideas forthcoming, she set out into the grounds.

She looked around; reassuring herself for the tenth time that there was no-one else within view. It wasn't as if anyone out on the grounds was likely to come to the northern side of the school; without the interest of either the Quiddich pitch, forbidden forest or lake there was no real reason or incentive for any student to be nearby but that didn't calm Buffy's nerves. With one final glance over her shoulder she laid her hands on the window grate in the same position that Remus had just over twenty four hours before and twisted.

When her eyes fully adjusted to the sudden change between the bright sunlight outside and the dimly lit corridor, she saw something that she had missed on her first journey up this forgotten stairwell; there were also stairs winding down from this floor, no doubt to the basement. Deciding on a whim to explore this first, Buffy mentally counted the important steps as she descended.

On the ninth step instead of firm stone her foot hit a slimy puddle and skidded. The next step down was had an equally unsteady footing sending Buffy tumbling down the next few steps before she could right herself. Her only warning that she had landed on what equated to the fourteenth step up, sitting on the two centre stones, was a grinding of stone on stone that sounded like badly oiled joints.

Suddenly what had moments before been a spiral staircase became a steep twisting stone slide that any fun fair would have been proud to have as a helter-skelter, sending Buffy hurtling towards the bottom. When she reached what would have been the final step, she flew up and out of the door which sprung open at the lightest touch and shut firmly behind her before Buffy had even landed. Standing slowly to allow her now sore coccyx time to recover, she took a look at the door onto the stairwell.

Once again the portrait pictured an unusual subject; the cloaked figure was encased in a mist that seemed to flow out of the creature itself shrouding all features and adding an extra layer of menace to the image. It flowed about the frame in fluid movements that boarded on ghostly somehow adding to the chill in the darkened dungeon corridor when it came close to the front of the picture.

Deciding that any spells she knew to open doors would have been used long ago by Lupin, and most definitely 'Rowena' tried as the password for both the stairs and the door; Buffy decided on a different approach. She pulled with all her might on the edge of the frame, attempting to use brute force to open the stubborn door. Unfortunately all this achieved was to capture the interest of the creature in the picture which edged forward until it was breathing heavily right in front of Buffy's face.

When Buffy finally gave up on hopes that either her Slayer strength or the various obscenities she muttered at the creature that refused to get out of her face would open the door, she took the long route around to the stairwell, this time electing to climb the stairs. On the first floor, to her growing frustration, she was once again unable to budge the door and so when she had made her way around and up to the second floor.

Here she merely cracked open the door, planning to take a note of the surroundings then continue upwards without letting the door swing shut. Seeming to guess her ploy the door, after a moment held in place, started to push back against her; taking most of her strength just to keep it open as she looked around. The corridor around the doorway was suspiciously bare for an area of Hogwarts; sporting none of the statues, suits of armour or paintings that seemed to be littered so generously about the school. Thinking back Buffy realised that there had been no decorations in the near vicinity of any other of the doors, either because no other painting would want to be near these creatures or perhaps to prevent the other images chattering as they were liable to – the paintings in the school passed around the gossip far faster than the students and with more enthusiasm.

Repeating this on the next few landings she was making her way up to the sixth floor when, distracted by thoughts on how to open the doors, she trod indiscriminately on the wrong step and was sent tumbling out of the door on the fifth floor. When she righted herself, she turned to see that the painting was of a raggedly clad man with his face distorted in a way that was all too familiar; a vampire. The being in the painting was nothing like the occasionally sophisticated vampires she had met, if briefly, through her slaying. It was animalistic; unable to create sounds beyond grunts and growls and constantly pacing around the woodland in his picture, becoming frustrated when it encountered the edges of the frame which kept him caged to this canvas.

Buffy felt the slayer rise up with in her as she faced the image of its ancient foe. Her suddenly heightened senses picked up something unexpected from the picture; there were waves of power emerging from the painting that reeked of secrecy and had a strangely sealed quality, but below them and so faint that without her soul searching the previous day it was unlikely she would have felt it was the feeling that there was a vampire nearby. She opened her eyes from attempts to control her slayer urges to find startlingly yellow ones staring right back at her from the front of the picture; mere inches away.

With a swift graceful movement born of instinct and innumerable repetitions, she removed her wand from the place in the small of her back where she used to carry a hidden stake and plunged it into the picture where the vampire's heart would be. As shocked as she was when, instead of ripping, the canvas gave like flesh and her wand passed right through where the wall should have started with no resistance, it was nothing compared to when the monster looked down at the hole left by her hastily removed wand and promptly burst into a cloud of dust.

Staring at the empty frame it took her a moment to realise that at the same moment that the vampire had dusted, the painting had swung an inch forward. She pulled open the now freely moving door and stepped back onto the landing, barely hearing the painting shut behind her. When she fully registered what had happened, she went back through the door and looked at the painting that once more contained the image of a feral vampire.

She staked him again and this time as she actually expected it to work she heard the faint click of the door being released and felt the barrier-like power disappear as the vampire dusted. Excited by her success she rushed up to the next floor and out of the door, finding herself in a corridor not far from the entrance to the Ravenclaw tower having come through a painting of a large wolf that snarled at her when it saw her watching. She could almost imagine she was able to smell its rancid breath as she looked at the blood stained mussel; the dark drops shining in the moonlight.

Instinctively knowing what to expect, Buffy looked at the top of the painting. In the right hand corner of the painting hung a perfectly spherical white orb hung over the open plain in a clear cloudless sky. At that moment the wolf, no werewolf, sat back on its haunches and howled mournfully at the full moon.

With one last look at the wolf, she took the corridor to her dorm room and rummaged amongst her potions equipment cursing slightly when she couldn't find what she was looking for. Finally locating the item she desired, she returned through the common room and was about to exit down the stairs when…

"Buffy!"

She paused and turned to find Anthony standing by a table covered with scraps of paper. Sighing and shoving the item in her hand away under her robes she walked over to him.

"Padma said you've done the Transfiguration essay. Could you give me a hand with finishing it off?"

He shoved his almost full parchment in front of her and Buffy couldn't fail to read through it without alienating more of her classmates after skimming it through she gave it back to the boy.

"Listen, I'm really busy right now… why don't you go to the library and take a look at '_Exponential Growth_' it's by _Strainbush… _or _Stainbrush_ something like that... if you don't find enough to finish off can I help you tomorrow, Ok?"

"Sure, thanks…" He murmured already collecting up his notes to go to the library. "Hey wait a sec and walk wi..." looking back up he found that Buffy had already exited the bottom of the stairs.

Back at the painting, she looked at the wolf and found herself having the same sense of wrongness that she had when she was out hunting the wolf that had turned out to be Oz. Despite the vicious image in the picture and probably because of her meeting the previous day with Lupin, she couldn't help remembering that werewolves were human most of the time. It's just a picture. She reminded herself settling her grip more firmly on the weapon in her hand. Forcing her conscience to believe that in spite of the pain she had heard that the moving portraits could feel; she thrust the silver knife into the werewolf's heart.

The wolf took longer to die than the vampire had, stumbling backwards and finally falling in a dead slump amongst the long grass of the plain. When the door clicked unlocked there was also a clatter of metal hitting stone and Buffy looked down to see the knife that she had used on the stone floor at her feet. She stood for a moment in shock, amazed that in one afternoon she had managed to discover the secret to opening doors that even fully trained wizards hadn't worked out. Picking up the knife and closing the door she felt her senses forced back as the barrier on the door was once more reinstated and watched as another wolf came bounding over a hilltop in the distance to the front of the picture.

She slowly picked up the knife and looked at the picture with the blade still resting in her hand. Not quite willing to once again witness the slow death of the wolf when she didn't have to, she turned from the picture just as the bell rang for dinner. She noticed the emptiness that had settled onto her stomach and with a last look at the picture that hid a doorway and the knife that held its key, she walked down to the Great Hall. She would need her energy tonight.


	29. Running Free

_**WordCount: **59,918_

_**A/N:**- I know I'm useless. I got a job and uni restarted so I suddenly had very little time. I'll try to do review replies tomorow. I hope everyone still reading this enjoys it. __Reading over the review replies I realise I might have to rewrite Ch 28 and maybe parts of the previous ones... I don't think I've explained the stairwell so that it makes sense... I might try just making a picture of it to put on my website... hopefully that'd help._

_Allen Pitt - Hermione could (perheps) find out about the murder charge, but she wouldn't necessarily be able _

_to find out about Buffy's school record - that's not exactly public knowledge and remember, though Hermoine _

_may be immensely clever, she's spent her formative years in a computer free zone - there's no reason to _

_believe that she'd be good enough on computers to find anything about Buffy. Yes, her staying with Joyce will _

_give Faith a low opinion of Buffy... I'm still undecided on Angel..._

_XinnLajgin - let me know what you found confusing and I'll try to clear it up for you._

_Sarah - yeah, so far she hasn't done much to change what the HP group would be up to at this point in the book _

_(well except that they're suspicious of Buffy as well as Umbridge)... it will begin to change as I go through._

_Darklight - I take it you're not a fan of Giles? or at least his treatment of Faith in S3 anyway. I do agree _

_with much of what you've said about his actions towards her, but remember that then he was very concerned with _

_Buffy, not only because she had run away and wasn't dealing with her issues, but also because he knew that she _

_was about to turn 18 and all that that entails. now for all purposes, they think that Buffy's dead so I think that, having given up on Buffy he would devote more time to not making the same mistakes with Faith. I cant have made this clear, but you can't do wand magic with just the slayer power, it's more because Buffy already has this outlet for power the slayeness uses it to escape when it builds up..._

_Just Me Prime - I hope what I write lives up to your expectations and theories._

_Rebecca Pierson - hmmm... rowena a slayer? where would you get that idea from? lol. you'll just have to wait and see..._

_Selene12 - it wasn't so much logic as brute force that meant Buffy could do what wizards couldn't, but yeah the magical world relies on... well magic.. far too much. Buffy wont join the ravenclaw team, but she will go out on a broom a bit.. just caus i love the idea of flying too much not to write it._

_Anne - I know I need longer conversations... I just don't relish writing them so they tend to become short... also buffy's mood at the moment would, I feel lead her to being reclusive. I'll try to remedy that in future as she becomes less upset.  
_

_**Running Free**_

She set off at a sprint away from the lights of the castle that shone out onto the grounds around it and was soon safely encased in the dim light of the moonlit night. Slowing to a light jog that still managed to exceed most peoples running speed she passed by the dark hut that seemed to have remained empty and neglected despite the recent influx in people at the school. Once she passed under the tall trees that obscured any light coming from the fading moon or distant stars, she slowed, sending out her senses as she wandered further into the darkness, away from the dim light that was the exit from the trees.

At first there was nothing that resembled what she was hunting for but as she walked further along a path that went slightly north into a part of the forest that she hadn't yet ventured into she began to sense various creatures coming closer, then darting away as she focused her senses on them. As she continued she could sense something following far behind. They were surrounding her. She paused for a moment, trying to hear them sneaking up on her, but the sound of a breeze rustling in the treetops was all that could be heard.

She turned from the narrow track in the woods that the once substantial path had become and set off at a jog through the trees, leaping the various thorny bushes that barred her path. The sudden change in direction and pace surprised the things that had been closing in on her and she came upon one unawares as it jumped between the trees leaving a trail of silver behind it that reflected non existent light.

It was only when the gigantic spider paused in its spinning of the web and crouched down over the strings that Buffy noticed the webs covered a far larger area than she had noticed, after they had been spun they faded from the bright silver to almost translucent, becoming invisible in the night; and in her last step she had knocked against one of them.

With a voice that sounded like the creaking and hissing of a strong wind through the boughs it called to its brethren "Come quick! It's here"

It looked about it as Buffy slipped behind a tree and leapt up into the branches above slipping through the limbs until she reached the top high above the ground. The beasts collected below her hissing and spitting as they conversed.

"Where?" millions of glowing eyes swung around as all the spiders started searching for the morsel they had been chasing, then one of the larger ones turned back to the spider that had originally been in the clearing and rasped "You let it escape." It jumped onto the accused that tried to deny any fault even as the others ripped into it. The other beasts, denied of their prey leapt joyfully into the fray and were soon engrossed in the battle.

As they were distracted by the skirmish, Buffy slid out of her tree; landing with a slight thud on the leaf strewn ground and almost making her way through the many strands of webbing that crisscrossed between the trunks when one of the smaller arachnids, escaping from the scuffle that had soon become a battle for dominance, came straight towards her and stopped, the multitude of eyes sweeping hungrily over her body.

The thing moved quicker than its size would suggest, pouncing on Buffy before she could react and knocking her off her feet. She rolled out of the way as it attempted to sink it's fangs into her and struck out at one of the thick hairy legs that supported its massive body. Scrambling to her feet, she turned to face the thing that was still looming down on her. It stumbled slightly as it moved hissing towards her and she noticed that the leg she had hit was hanging at an awkward angle. Immediately she realised the weakness of the creature and attacked the thin, at least in comparison to the huge body, legs.

The thing shrank back from her after receiving the first few blows, not used to humans being so fast, strong and vicious. The confusion at this combined with the bursts of pain it was receiving from many of it's legs caused it to shrink up into a ball, adopting the death like pose used by spiders of all shapes and sizes. Buffy triumphantly turned, only to find that the high pitched shrieks that had emerged from the beast when she attacked it had caught the attention of the rest of its kind.

"You dare enter our forest and attack my people?" The largest of the creatures hissed at her as it approached, coming so close that she could see the greying of the hairs on long legs and the faded eyes that nevertheless stared at her with a fierce intensity. She glanced from side to side, seeing the rest of the spiders moving to surround her and the beaten creature behind her uncurling to block any escape. As a sense of dread washed over her she felt the power rise up within her readying herself to battle with the army of spiders that had now surrounded her.

From deeper in the forest a low rumble sounded the noise emerging from a gigantic chest. The spiders paused listening as the clamour that reverberated through the trees. The sharp sound of branches breaking started when the growl stopped, along with the rhythmic thumps of a huge creature running through the forest. As the sounds grew nearer the ground beneath the group started to shake with every thud that signalled a footfall.

The thing leapt into the circle of spiders snapping teeth seemingly everywhere as it forced back the gigantic spiders that were nothing in comparison to its bulk. The arachnids took off like ants from a shadow, scurrying back into the part of the forest that held their lair; leaving the dead to their smaller cousins that were already approaching to feast on the remains.

The slow grumble returned as three huge heads turned to face the girl, drool dripping from mouths that hung open; displaying sharp white teeth. The centre head paused sniffing the air before the body moved closer and allowed it to smell the air around her body. It nudged her with a nose, exploring her scent before all three tongues lolled out and it crouched down playfully in front of her.

The meeting ritual over, Buffy approached the beast tapping back one of the heads with a force that would break any normal creatures skull when it attempted to lick her. "Hey, Berus. Missed me?" One of the heads nudged warily at her hand and sounded a satisfied rumble when she complied and scratched his nose. The other heads satisfied themselves by drinking in the scent of the girl. Suddenly the huge dog jumped back taking off at a run into the forest, pausing for a moment to look back and wait for Buffy to start up in a jog after him, before turning and setting off in a burst away.

It was the same style of game that can be seen in almost every park on a Sunday; the untamed animal jumping back whenever Buffy came close and playfully nipping at her when she jogged away from him. They travelled sporadically into the forest as they chased after one another, taking immense pleasure in both the company and the exertion of playing the game with someone that could match their speed and endurance.

In her exultation she tried not to notice the itching feeling under her skin to do more; the slayer enjoying the use of it's powers but demanding more from her. She tried to ignore it, running from the huge creature with a smile on her face she suddenly heard her friend skid to a stop and whimper worriedly. She turned, planning to reassure the beast to find him staring wild eyed at something beyond her. It was disconcerting not only in the fact that she had never seen fear in the huge puppy dog eyes but also in that whenever they were together Berus' attention always seemed fixed on her until she forced him away.

He whined pleadingly before jumping back a few steps as if struck. He sent an apologetic look Buffy's way, then turned to crash through the forest. Buffy pivoted slowly, readying herself to face the thing that had so terrified a beast that could have rivalled the dinosaurs for strength and ferocity. Amongst the trees stood a number of strange figures, hiding in the shadows; even as she stood still she could see out of her peripheral vision other forms moving silently to create a loose circle around her. Once again she was being surrounded by the denizens of this accursed wood. She forced herself to relax and, feeling no animosity coming from the hidden beings, merely stood in a loose stance that looked passive enough to not incite a physical assault.

After a pause that merely served to rise the tension of the moment, a figure emerged from the shadows, only lightly rustling the fallen leaves as it stepped forward. She had thought that the great canine now trampling through the forest was the supreme creature, ruling over the lesser beasts in the wood. But now the guard dog had been sent away and the true masters of this forbidden land were standing around her, the power and ageless knowledge exuding from them mocking her belief that another lorded over their realm.

From the loose circle of centaurs around her one stepped forward looking her over with piercing blue eyes. He was a magnificent creature, his body built like a carthorse and his chest just as robust. His long hair was a multi-toned grey, streaks of deep ebony and white showing what had been and what was to come. The same hair covered his body and filtered up to warm his chest with a light down. Behind him standing just outside the circle but well back from the centaur that could only be their father were two younger creatures that resembled the one in front in all but age and build. Their postures slightly more threatening than the others as they stood defensively behind their spokesman.

"Slayer" the centaur bowed to her in a far more formal greeting than she was used to "May the stars shine brightly on you this evening."

"Slayer?" she asked in an airy blonde tone while inside she was going into a panic as she wondered how they had worked out what she was and contemplated how to prevent any of the wizards at the castle from finding out.

"Do not toy with me, young one. The wizards may have forgotten their past but we have memories that go back far further than the segregation of your worlds."

"Wha…" She started to ask him what had caused that partition, but closed nature of his tone and face stopped her questions.

"Your enemy has followed you to this place."

She looked around them in shock, wondering why the centaurs were being so calm if the giant spiders were on her tail, sending out her senses when she couldn't see any of the beasts she eventually found what the centaur had been talking about. She paused somehow stopping herself from following her senses, and looked up at the centaur.

"Why?"

"They come because you are here." This caused some muttering amongst the circle of horsemen who obviously did not agree with their spokesperson saying as much as he had. "Just as you can't help yourself from seeking them out, so they feel a constant pull towards you, though only the older of their kind can recognise it as that."

One of the other greying centaurs trotted forward at this and accosted the one that had been talking "You, out of all of us, should know the folly of disclosing our readings Chrixon."

Chrixon turned sedately to the one that had interrupted him "None of the knowledge I've given her was obtained by gazing at the stars." Then ignoring the centaur still standing fuming at him he turned to Buffy who was only managing to restrain from running towards the creatures that her senses were fixed on by reminding herself how outnumbered she was by the beings that still surrounded them. "Go to them, Slayer, and restore your own balance."

With the permission to leave that from any lesser creature she would have taken as an insult given, she took off at a run into the forest, barely noticing obstacles in her way as she flew over them. She splashed through a stream, ignoring the shock of the sudden cold as the water made contact with her skin and continued as the terrain started to get rocky.

Slowing slightly as she approached a camp in a slight hollow in the rocky hillside she heard voices float down to her through the night.

"Why are we even here?" someone moaned "There's no-one to eat and…"

"Quiet fool. Just because you can't feel the power of this place…" he trailed off and Buffy saw a shadow come to the outer edge of the cave and look around.

She should have been disappointed that she had been noticed before her attack, loosing the element of surprise that would help her if she was too outnumbered but the Slayer had almost completely taken her over with the urge to fight and slay. Her brief exploits in London had only provided a brief respite to the yearning that she felt to slay whenever the sun went down and now she felt the full force of her desires hit her.

Stepping forward onto a branch at her feet caused a loud crack to echo back and forth among the rocks making the vampire on the look out jump but before he could shout out to his companions she had picked up one of the makeshift stakes that she had created and thrown in directly through his chest. Breaking off the excess from the other so that it rested nicely in her hand she headed forwards.

Closer to the edge of the cave she saw how many were remaining; three vampires sat awkwardly on the rocky floor while another, her senses told her the only one of a dangerous age, paced the back of the cave. Hearing them beginning to wonder where their companion was she decided to jump them before they prepared themselves for some sort of attack, rushing the cave and killing one of the youngsters before the other two had a chance to stand.

The older vampire held back as he watched his two minions loose a battle against the petite blonde that had appeared in their midst. She twisted and flipped, ducking punches even as she thrashed out with her legs, but she couldn't find an opening to stake either without giving the other a clean shot at her. Finally the urge to feel the addictive satisfaction of a slay overwhelmed her and she struck out at one pulling out her stake and twisting away from the other's attack even as he turned into dust. The punch landed squarely on her stomach, sending her flying to the back of the cave and knocking all the wind out of her lungs. Somehow managing to stay on her feet she stumbled back against the cave wall and got her stake up as the over eager vampire stepped in for the kill.

As he crumbled into dust she slumped back against the wall, her exhausted body reminding her why it was so necessary to train despite her natural abilities. It was only instinct that saved her from the hand that tried to pin her neck to the wall, ducking and rolling away she winced as she turned to face her foe.

"Hmmm… what do we have here?" the vampire looked her up and down lecherously "A Slayer?" he mused "and here was me thinking she was across the pond… you must be new." His demonic visage twisted into a grin as he approached her, thinking that a new slayer would be an easy target despite her showing against his companions.

Buffy edged back empty handed, having lost her stake when the last of the three youngsters was dusted, watching his grin get even larger as he saw her helplessness. He struck out too fast for her to react, swiping her legs out from beneath her and leaving her flat backed on the floor.

He sauntered towards her with a cocky smile "What are you going to do now little girl?" his thoughts so fixated on her blood that he didn't react in time to stop her flipping upright, kicking out as she did so to send him crashing into the wall.

"Slay you." Buffy answered pulling her wand out from behind her back "as I did The Master before you."

"But… She died" The vampire stammered. He realised that this was no new slayer he was facing just as she batted away his attempts to block her and thrust her wand into his heart.

"You didn't let that stop you… why should I?"

As she approached the castle the adrenaline that had kept her going started to leave her bloodstream making her realise the full extent of her already painful injuries. After pulling herself up the spiral stairs she crept along the corridor to the common room being as silent as possible so as to not disturb the slumbering paintings and alert the staff. Finally falling into her bed she didn't even have the energy to heal herself as for the first time in what seemed like decades she fell into a peaceful slumber undisturbed by the drives of a Slayer.


	30. Playing Catch and CatchUp

_**WordCount:** 63,096_

_**A/N:**- Sorry it took all weekend to get this up. I went away and didn't have time to write the review replies before I left. I have also updated my website! I know. It now has some maps I've made that are relevent to the story and another timeline. as every I'd love to hear what you think._

_Allen Pitt - You really do seem to know my mind too well... not only do you guess most of my plotlines you also somehow know when I'm going to update? you also seem to be the only person who figured out (or who figured out and mentioned it anyway) what berus' full name was. I know having him there was a bit random but when trying to find some inspiration for the chapter I wrote a list of the creatures known to be in the forest... I just couldn't not use him. andy yes Buffy will discover the unwelcome guest in the forest when Hagrid returns. re: bruises ets... not only does she have slayer enhanced healing, she also now has magic on her side, so she can hide most bumps and scrapes... plus robes aren't exactly revealing. I'm sure the increase in Vamps in the forest will get noticed by the OotP, esp after Hagrid returns to the grounds, but remember they're expecting more dark activity and will assume the vampires have something to do with voldemort..._

_sparky24 - luckilly Buffy was't that bloddied by the fight... I prefer suspisions to rise slowly..._

_Shabopo - re the confusion over Berus... he is Hagrids dog... but not fang. He's the three headed dog that guards the trapdoor in the very first HP book... well I noticed that he was released into the Forest so I couldn't help using him... This time her going to sleep without healing was mostly a device to show how tired she was but I may in future have people start to suspect... I won't comment on training room as you've already revieved this ch on TtH re: D.A. well you'll just have to wait and see... and there's no way to ever get too into a story... or I'm definately far too obsessed with a few that I'm currently reading._

_XinnLajgin - is the annoying crypticness me or the characters? if it was the centaurs... that's okay caus they're meant to be a bit cryptic, but if the whole story's confusing let me know..._

_Susan - No the rumors aren't Harry... he may be suspicious and not really like her, but he rarely makes accusations based on suspisions. Firenze taking over Divination doesn't happen for a while yet, but yes... That will cause Buffy even more problems, though you get the feeling that if in the course of 250 odd years Wizards haven't found out from centaurs about Slayers, they wouldn't really pay much attention now..._

_Alex, Just Me Prime, Darklight, Miricle Angel Summers, Toniboo, Tonya, Audarrow - sorry I don't really have time to say anything to you seperately as there weren't any answerable questions in your reviews, but I do appreciate them and (as many of you mentioned it) I'm sorry about the gaps between updates and hope this (relatively) quicker one makes up for the long wait... hopefully the next update will only take a fortnight or so..._

_**Playing Catch and Catch-Up**_

Neither the coming of the morning, nor the noisy wakening of her dorm-mates managed to rouse Buffy from her deep slumber. She continued to doze, oblivious to the speculation of her friends at her unusually late rising, until long after her schoolmates had drifted down to breakfast, assuming that their American friend had finally decided to take advantage of her schedule and have a lie in.

Time drifted by and a sharp tapping disturbed her sleep forcing her to the edge of her dreams. Groaning at the interruption of her much needed rest, and the pain that the movement caused her, she rolled over; pulling her pillow over her head to drown out the noise. She managed to drift off for quarter of an hour before a sharp pain bought her quickly and firmly into the real world. Sitting up sharply caused a squawk of alarm from the thing nipping on her ear and a loud moan from Buffy as her sore ribs complained about the sudden movement.

The owl that had been pecking on her ear tried to fly away from her annoyed failings but found itself trapped by the drapes, after fluttering around in the restricted space enclosed by the four poster bed it eventually landed back on the covers, still ruffled from the shock of Buffy's awakening and hopped over to Buffy, indignantly holding out its leg. Buffy reached forward, wary of the bird's sharp beak and the piercing glare that was being directed her way, and removed the roll of parchment.

With its burden gone, the owl continued to stare viciously at Buffy until she opened the drapes, letting the light in and the messenger out. When they closed again, blocking out all the light she buried her head in the feather pillow and tried to get back to sleep. Unfortunately her stomach chose this moment to announce it's disapproval of her idea to skip breakfast and, finally giving in to the fact that she wouldn't get a lie in, Buffy got out of bed.

She dressed in a rush so that she could reach the dining hall before the end of the meal and only remembered as she walked in the doors, ten minutes before the start of first period, about the piece of parchment now scrunched up in her hand. She unravelled it as she walked to her table and read the scratchy writing on the sheet.

_Dear Buffy,_

_Unfortunately due to recent events I will be unable to give you more lessons at Hogwarts. Dumbledore tells me that the first trip to Hogsmeade this term is on November 5th. We have much to discuss, and I would appreciate it if you would meet me in the Three Broomsticks at 1 o'clock. If you need any more advice before this, feel free to write to me._

_Yours,_

_Remus Lupin_

Distracted by the note she hadn't noticed the strange noise level in the hall, but as soon as she sat down she saw the intense discussions taking place all over the hall and realised that there was yet another new development at the school. She just hoped that this one had nothing more to do with her own past.

"Have you heard?" Anthony had been walking towards the door when he spotted Buffy and perched beside her, dumping his bag at his feet.

"Hmm?" Buffy asked as she started to grab the remains of the food from the serving platters.

"Well, at least no-one will be talking about you anymore." Buffy paused, taking the fork out of her mouth and turned to face him, unable to talk but staring daggers at the boy until he continued "Umbridge has become 'High Inquisitor' of Hogwarts… she's going to inspect classes to check the teachers are up to scratch. With the Minister on her side they say she'll soon have more power over what happens at Hogwarts than Dumbledore"

Buffy was half way through swallowing her mouthful when she remembered what class she had next and was already standing and grabbing her bag as she started to choke. Anthony stood and thumped her on the back, dislodging the morsel she was choking on but managing to hit one of the spots that was still sore despite the night's healing. She flinched away from him wincing as that pulled even more sore spots.

"Sorry. I guess I don't know my own strength." Anthony chuckled, then looked at her in concern "Why'd you suddenly jump up anyway. It looked for a moment like You Know Who himself was on your tail."

Buffy's eyes widened once again as she remembered what had caused her to choke. "I've got DADA first period…"

They turned simultaneously to look at the clock in the hall and Anthony had barely registered that there was only five minutes to the start of the lesson when Buffy was out of the door, unwilling to be late for a lesson with Umbridge after she'd just gained new powers over the school.

Somehow she mad it to her seat before Umbridge walked into the room. There was an obvious increase in the pride of her strides as she moved behind her desk and an increased smugness in her voice as she greeted them.

"Good Morning Class."

"Good Morning, Professor Umbridge." The class replied in the usual teenage monotone of students forced to say something in tandem. The round face split into a pumpkin like grin and she took a seat behind her desk.

"Wands away." Nobody in the class moved, having learnt from her decisiveness the previous lesson that they wouldn't be using magic in this, usually practically orientated, subject. "Today we will continue to 'Chapter Two, Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation' please turn to page nineteen of your books. There will be no need to talk."

The students knew better than to complain, though there were many exasperated looks shot back and for the across the classroom as they flicked to the start of the next chapter. The text was so tedious that even the low rustle of pages turning was a welcome distraction from their work. After what seemed like an eternity the lesson ended and they were dismissed, their lowered voices in the corridors sounding deafening in comparison to the thick silence they had just been trapped in.

Over the next week she adjusted to the new rhythm of her life at Hogwarts. By midweek she once again felt the pull to the night that in Sunnydale she would have denied ever existed, there the slayer had been sated by her nightly patrols, but now, with a deeper connection to the magic that ran her power, she felt them all the stronger; everything about her longing to be shrouded in darkness. Once again she ventured down the secret stairwell and into the grounds.

She was unsuccessful in her hunt, running through the forest with her senses on full alert, but unable to find anything more than a pair of trolls to vent her frustrations on. Her fight with the excessively strong creatures once more bought home how her lack of training affected both her fitness levels and her skills as a fighter, things that she would definitely have to improve upon if she hoped to continue returning from her late night outings. After a slow and exhausting climb up the hidden stairs she reached the sixth floor and was about to open the portrait to make her way back to her room when her thoughts made a sudden leap to the obvious conclusion to her problem.

She needed an out of the way place where no-one would notice her training… somewhere that she could easily come back and forth from without being observed. At the top of the stairs was the most secret place in the school. If what Lupin said was true no-one at the school even knew it was there.

She went up the last flight of stairs and entered the empty room, silent even for the sleeping castle; she looked around the great room. The potential there was undeniable; it had far more space than she and Giles had ever had in the library in Sunnydale with none of the threat of interruption. That night she slipped into a contented sleep, ideas of makeshift training equipment flitting through her mind.

Once she had got into a routine the days seemed to fly by; she would wake up early and slip up the stairwell to train or merely work in her own isolated spot, the return of her solitary time something that she cherished. Then, before the rest of the school started to stir, she would head down to breakfast and begin her day of lessons with the rest of the school. In the evening, after her extra lessons, she usually ended up in the library, or increasingly often the common room, with Anthony and his friends; chatting as they tried to get their minds around their essays and he helped her catch up on all the things she'd missed out learning. She managed to miss these sessions by loosing herself deep in the library often enough for him to not question being unable to find her on those nights when she headed into the forest.

In this way another fortnight passed in a blur of work and training. On the third Sunday since the students return to school Buffy tried to concentrate on a drill but was too distracted by the sunlight shining through the huge windows to enjoy the exercise. Giving up on her training for the day, but unwilling to return to her studies, Buffy descended the spiral staircase; automatically stepping on the correct steps and discretely left the castle through the secret door. She wandered through the grounds towards the Quiddich pitch, enjoying the current respite from the grey clouds that recently seemed to be always blocking the sun. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a group of students all staring upwards as someone on a broom circled steadily upwards, those on the ground shouting encouragement and advice which Buffy doubted was even audible at his height above the field.

She was running before she even realised anything was happening, her eyes picking up the slight change in posture that showed the flyers unbalance, his fear, and sending a message straight to her legs before the figure even began to tumble. He fell heavily, robes bellowing out behind him making him seem like a giant bird, plummeting to attack some morsel on the ground. She put on an extra burst of speed as she realised she wasn't going to make it in time. Glancing at his friends who stood frozen in shock as they gaped at the boy somersaulting through the sky, she noticed something and changed her direction slightly.

She grabbed the broom out of the boy's hand and leapt onto it in one movement, her momentum carrying broom and rider forwards a few feet before the magic kicked in, the ends of the bristles just skimming the tips of the blades of grass. Pulling back on the handle she forced herself upwards, trying to push every ounce of magic she had into the broom to give it enough speed to reach the boy in time. She could feel the power flowing through her into the wood, more controlled than her last flight but still an overwhelmingly large amount of energy being used to speed her forwards.

Buffy saw the seconds that it took for her to cross the Quiddich pitch and rise up below the boy in slow motion, it seeming to take hours to get her arms around the falling figure and pull him upwards to safety. The broom sunk suddenly as it took on the extra weight, then continued upwards at a slower rate as Buffy circled to collect the broom that was slowly drifting downwards, magical fail-safes preventing it from falling at a speed that would damage the delicate tuning of the bristles.

As she turned and started her descent back towards the group waiting on the ground she recognised some of the students and all but groaned. This crowd was already far more interested in her secrets than she wanted; and no doubt this display would only serve to heighten their curiosity. When she landed next to them, the boy in her arms came out of his shock long enough to stumble to the ground. Buffy silently returned the broom to the redheaded boy who was looking torn between anger at her 'borrowing' his broom and admiration for the amazing feat of flying she had just executed.

"Wha…" He paused and shook his head "How…" he looked blankly at the broom in his hands, amazed that it was capable of such things, then back up at Buffy and instinctively tightened his grip on the broom, remembering the recent theft that had occurred before he even registered her presence.

Buffy looked around in fear, suddenly realising what her performance might mean if too many people had spotted her. Luckily, with the sun still not high over the hills that rose behind the forest, not many people had foregone their Sunday lie in to discover that the sun was out. There was only another two students in the grounds and though they were rushing towards the group on the Quidditch pitch, she didn't think the word of six students would go far, especially in light of the opinions of Harry's plausibility she'd heard recently.

The two girls reached the group, the taller redhead panting and wheezing in the chilly air where her companion seemed merely healthily flushed by the exercise.

"Harry, that was amazing. I didn't know what to do when I saw him fall, that had to be some of the best flying I've ever seen you do" the petite brunette smiled warmly at Harry, completely ignoring his companions and the traumatized boy that was crumpled on the floor near his feet.

Harry's cheeks, already flushed from the shock of recent events, turned a bright red as he tried to stammer out a reply "I… it…"

"It wasn't Harry." Harry's unexpected saviour came in the form of the boy shakily forcing his way to his feet. He was still as white as the clouds making their way across the sun, but his eyes held a firmness and resolve as he turned to Buffy. "Thank you." He took a step towards her with his hand outstretched, but wasn't as recovered as he obviously hoped, stumbling as he attempted to move forward.

Hermione rushed forward to support the boy "Come on Neville, you need Madame Pomfrey to check you're okay." He tried to move away but once again found himself weakened by shock and gave in, leaning against the girl and allowing himself to be lead back to the School. Hermione looked back at Buffy with a strange edge to her gaze and shot a pointed look at Harry before she turned away and concentrated on getting the boy safely back to the school.

Observing this exchange, Buffy hadn't noticed the thoughtful eyes on her she turned back to the group and found the brunette looking her up and down, as if assessing her worth for something.

"You're the new Ravenclaw fifth year, aren't you?" Buffy nodded, seeing no point in denying the truth. "Why didn't you apply for the team if you can fly like that?"

At that Ron butted in "Didn't you hear? Her first lesson she went completely out of control. Almost smashed into the Whomping Willow and lost her broom to the forest."

"Yeah" her companion butted in "The whole house was talking about the crazy American…" she trailed off as she realised that said student was standing very close to her and quieted down. "I can't believe you didn't hear about it."

"Mari, you know how busy sixth year is… I barely have time for Quidditch let alone fifth year gossip" The dark eyes swung Buffy's way again. "Seriously that was an incredible piece of flying. I can talk to Roger if you want to try out… our new Chaser this year…"

"Oh come on Cho, she's not that bad…"

"Sorry, but I don't have time this year for sports." Buffy interrupted, making her escape before the boys decided to question her on the success of that outing after the disaster that had been her first broom ride. "I have a lot of work…" she turned away from the group but was stopped when a strong hand grasped her arm.

"You can't just leave without an explanation." She turned to find herself looking at a pair of accusing green eyes. His composure had returned surprisingly quickly considering the cause of its disruption was still standing next to him. "How did you do that?"

"Come on Harry, she's just a natural – don't think I haven't heard of what happened the first time _you_ got on a broom" Cho said teasingly, not understanding his hostility.

His blush flared up again but his eyes never left Buffy's face in a disturbing impression of Snape's glares when attempting to extract information from her. "She took Ron's broom before Neville even fell." He murmured to his companions "How did you_ know_? How did you manage_ that_ your _second_ time off the ground?"

The similarity to the stares Buffy had become used to receiving from Snape somehow managed to quiet her fear of discovery and calm her speeding thoughts "It was obvious he couldn't control his broom… anyone could see how unbalanced he was on the turns… and just because I got a broken school broom last time doesn't mean I can't fly"

"It sure doesn't" Ron muttered under his breath, still in awe of the abilities she had just shown.

When Harry turned to his friend, annoyed by the interruption, Buffy slipped out of his grasp. "Nice as interrogations are at this time of the morning, I've got less accusatory people to see." She smiled at the groups stunned faces before turning back to the castle.

She walked quickly away from them, ignoring Harry's shouts until she felt something in her hand pull away from her. Instinctively she held on before she even remembered what she was holding then looked down to find the broom that she had plucked out of the air still in her grasp. "Accio Firebolt" She heard him shout again. She let go of the struggling broom and was startled to see it fly out of her hand into Harry's outstretched one.

She contemplated going back to complain about the rudeness of using magic to take away from her what she had been planning to return to its rider, then decided that they weren't worth it and made her way across the grass, remembering at the last moment to turn towards the front doors instead of the hidden doorway she usually used. As she walked up the stairs towards the common room she wondered what the ramifications of her thoughtless actions would be.

**_A/N:_- **_To my fathful and pantient readers. I just checked the mail on my account that recieves these reviews for the first time in about 3 months and was touched that you've been telling me to get my ass into gear for all of that period, constantly asking for more. I'm amazed that this is so well liked that 5 months on you guys are still pushing me to update. I've had a few problems since Jan (in addition to my comp dying and destroying alot of this story before xmas) that have effected my normal work enough to make me have to resit a year at uniand therefore have leftno time for me to indulge my muse. My exams finish on May 16th and I will get back to writing then. I hope some of you can forgive me my misdeeds and review then._

_LGI xx_

_**A/N2:**- This should be subtitled appology mk2. Once again Ive left you in the lurch. My medical problems have continued to affect real life enough to prevent me from updating before I went away on Holiday at the end of June. Im still away but just wanted to say Im back on Aug 4th and have a notebook full of story notes and chapters to write up so (Hopefully) should update soon after that. barring fire death... mayhem... or any of the other things that have got between me and this hobby for so long. sorry guys!_


	31. A Series of Unfinished Conversations

_**WordCount:** 66,106_

_**A/N:**- I cant quite believe How long it's been since I updated this. As was recently commented I updated this a while ago on tth but seemed to have forgotten to put it here (perhaps as here there are oh so many reviews that I got halfway through the replies and gave up - I found a half written 'review reply' doc on my old comp) ah well. You're getting it now, and my appologies. _

_Unfortunately for any of you who are hoping this means I've returned to this fic... I'm not. I do still fully intend (at some point in the next decade or so) to finish this off, but I've kinda stagnated, though I have returned to fanfiction - I have been writing and updating my first fic - Chosen recently. When I have finished that I'll try coming back to this._

_I have to admit reading all your wonderful reviews has vaguely revitalised my interest in this story, but even if I do manage to get some writing done I'll only be updating when I can concentrate fully on this - when Chosen is more or less comlplete._

_Anyway enough of a rant from me... on to the important stuff.  
_

_**A Series of Unfinished Conversations**_

Throughout that evening Buffy waited with baited breath for a flood of intrigue and suspicion to once more wash over the school but for some reason the expected interest never emerged. It had been too late in a dreary day for many of the students to witness the devastating fall and spectacular save, and for some reason the small group of students that knew of the event were keeping silent. Buffy was therefore surprised, at least for a moment, when the following afternoon she received a summons to the Headmaster's office.

"Buffy!" Dumbledore greeted her with what seemed like welcome surprise as Professor McGonagall closed the door behind the erring student. The tonal Inflections confused the slayer as she had been taken out of lessons at his request to attend the meeting.

The Headmaster waited for her to sit down in front of him, a cheerful smile on his face, before continuing. "I hope you know why you are here?" the tone was vaguely inquisitive, though his grin only widened when she failed to reply. "I called you here to speak about your recent… activities" He paused and looked at her expectantly, but Buffy knew better than to immediately apologise for ignoring curfew. Admitting to something before you were blamed outright was almost as stupid as bad guys that boasted about their plans before they'd come into fruition.

"Yes, well," he continued when she failed to do anything but smile benignly across at him from across his desk, "I wanted to thank you for averting what could have been a fatal accident yesterday. I assume given your improved control of a broom that your extra classes have been going well?" What had started as an amiable comment suddenly became more probing and she felt something brush over her mind; a whisper of interest that jolted her into a higher state of awareness.

This time she knew what the feather light pressure meant and how to combat it, forcing her mind to think of nothing but the question asked.

"I haven't had one in awhile, but the exercises Rem… Professor Lupin gave me seem to be helping to control the magical effects."

She calmly gazed at his amiable face, daring him to disclose his distrust and ask what he wanted, force himself further into her mind until there was nothing but her memories laid bare for him to read at will. For a second she thought she saw fear flicker across his dancing eyes and the his probing mind sank into her thoughts, silently questioning what she was. The overwhelming urge to give in to him obliterated her defences, forcing an image of a grave at night to jump into the front of mind where he could see it. But then he was back to normal. The temptation to discover once and for all the nature of the threat she posed gone as quickly as it had come, the friendly headmaster returning with a relieved expression at another challenge overcome.

"It's okay for you to refer to Professor Lupin in any way he has allowed in my presence. There is no need for formalities." He smiled, such an innocently open gesture that she almost didn't believe it was the same man who moments ago had danced through her thoughts. Unfortunately, Buffy knew better than most how easy it is to slip into battle mode when faced with a potential threat and how much practice it must have taken the headmaster to let that distrust melt away with such ease.

The conversation failed to approach anything of consequence again as he asked about her courses and rewarded the work of the previous day. As she watched him from across the desk she wondered how he managed to shake off his distrust so easily. By all accounts he had lived through… no, lead a war in which spies were more often the rule, not the exception. She hoped that one day she would be able to shake off the cynicism that battle gave its participants so easily, but she doubted she could ever again trust someone to stand beside her as she had Angel.

Throughout the following week she felt the slow rise in the chatter and excitement of the school. At first she had thought news of her escapade had finally got out, but there was barely any notice being paid to her; that is unless it came from a certain end of the Gryffindor table. She hadn't even realised what was causing the rise in tensions amongst her peers until Anthony questioned her about the event that was so exciting to the students.

"Was your permission form filled out before you left home?" he murmured as he took a seat beside her in the library, unceremoniously dumping his bag on top of one of her piles of parchment. Buffy rolled her eyes at him as she pushed his satchel off her notes and rearranged her work so that there was space on the table. She barely contained an exasperated snort as he held up his hands, mouthing "Sorry" at her before grinning cheekily and unpacking his bag.

"Form? Permission for what?" Once again Buffy realised she had committed some kind of faux pas by not immediately understanding what he meant, but more than that he seemed really disappointed by her lack of understanding.

"You didn't?" his voice, which clearly sounded his disappointment was too loud and earned him a harsh "ssshhh!" from the librarian who, though out of sight from their table hidden behind shelves, never allowed the students to let her get too far out of mind whilst they were in her realm. Grinning at his mistake he leaned closer to Buffy. "To go to Hogsmeade – every few months we're allowed to visit on the weekend. It's the wizarding town…"

"I know what it is," Buffy interrupted. "I came through it on the way here. No-one told me I needed a form to go."

He looked confused "Well you could always get one off Flitwick and owl your parents…" he looked thoughtful "It'll probably get there and back before Saturday."

"The trip's this weekend?" Buffy thought about her meeting already planned for the first Hogsmeade weekend, it wasn't that she was having any severe problems with her slayer powers now that she had begun to both train and hunt regularly, but it would be nice to talk to someone who understood, at least on a broader sense, what she was going through. "I don't get why they wouldn't tell me I needed permission… seems a bit strange anyway, it's not like I needed it to..." She trailed off as her thoughts jumped ahead of speech and a beaming smile appeared on her face "Hey!..."

This time it was Buffy's turn to get reprimanded and Anthony silently laughed at her uncomfortable reaction to the annoyed glares from nearby tables winning himself a glare from his companion who pointedly returned to her work, ignoring Anthony, who was impatiently waiting for her to continue.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just I really think you'd like Hogsmeade. Also…" He looked around and lowered his voice, "there's a group of students meeting to…"

This time the interruption came from directly behind them, a hand appeared on Anthony's shoulder making him jump barely suppressing the yelp of surprise that went with it. They turned to find Hermione Granger staring intently at Buffy in a manner that had become almost familiar. The Gryffindor seemed to find it intolerable that anyone could keep a secret that she couldn't uncover.

"Anthony, could I talk to you?"

"Uh… sure." Anthony looked mildly confused; her pointed tone making the seemingly normal request sound odd. "Is this about the Prefects…"

"No." Hermione cut him off shortly. "It's not anything to do with that. I just…" she paused and glanced at Buffy. "Would you mind if we talked alone." Though it was phrased as such, her tone made it clear that this wasn't a request and her next motions confirmed that as she moved to a corner away from any tables without waiting for a response.

Anthony looked from Hermione to Buffy with a baffled expression on his face and shrugged helplessly at his friend before giving into Hermione's insistent foot-tapping by going to her. Despite the distance and their lowered tones, picking up a conversation being held mere metres away was easy for Buffy.

"What's up? Have you changed the meeting time for the Def…" Anthony was suddenly muted as Hermione muttered a silencing charm, cutting off their conversation from even a slayer's sensitive ears.

Though she was intrigued by the secrecy that Hermione had imposed on the conversation, there was no unobtrusive way for Buffy to observe their discussion and the Gryffindor was already pointedly looking in her direction, so she turned back to the pages in front of her and stared blankly at the work until Anthony returned; suddenly in no mood to study.

"So..." he began awkwardly, unsure of how to pick up their conversation after the interruption and unable, in the face of Buffy's lethargy to merely bury himself in their work. "Do you think you'll be able to come to Hogsmeade?"

Buffy looked at him for a long moment, wondering just what had been said to leave the usually collected boy so jittery. She thought about challenging him with his avoidance of whatever Hermione had wanted, but thought better of it. She didn't have any right to force secrets out of her friend after having kept so much about herself from him.

"Yeah. I'm 17 - that makes me an adult by Wizarding reckoning right?" Anthony nodded absently, still thinking about his recent conversation. "Well why would I need permission when I'm legally free of my parents? I'm sure it'll be okay for me to go." When the boy's silence continued unabated she prompted, "So what were you gonna say before Hermione came? Some students are meeting..." She trailed off as Anthony sharply looked up at her, shock and fear clouded his expression before he could mask it.

"Oh... uh yeah..." Anthony stammered before speedily continuing "They're going to look at the Shrieking Shack." He looked up at Buffy, his eyes unnaturally steady as they avoided her own and finished in a diminished tone, "I thought you might like to take a look."

She regarded her friend for a moment, unsure if it was merely the discussion with Hermione leaving him jumpy or something more, but resolved to leave the issue. She of all people understood that not everything could be shared, and his ability to ignore the gaps in some of her stories was one of the foundations of their friendship. Making her decision, she ignored his omissions and returned to a subject she was sure he could enthuse about.

"Shreaking Shack huh? So why are we looking at something that 'may' be haunted when the Barron's more scary any day? What else is good in town?"

"Well you haven't lived until you visit Honeydukes..."

Hogsmeade was an amazing town, Buffy decided. Her previous visits hadn't done it justice; merely visiting the Post Office to use its fires. She had initially thought that that in itself was impressive enough, but there were shops in the town to rival Diagon Alley in their strangeness and Anthony took great pleasure in giving her the grand tour of the High Street. She thought it might be hard for her to convince Anthony to abandon her in the Three Broomsticks for her meeting with Remus but he was surprisingly happy to leave her, claiming to be going with a couple of his friends to assist the rest of the male inhabitants of the school in emptying the Joke Shop of all of it's stock. She might have been suspicious of his sudden lack of enthusiasm for her presence had she not been so excited by the prospect of her reunion with the werewolf.

The clock, one of which there seemed to be situated behind every British bar, clanked round with a muffled tick to one o'clock, still with no sign of the wolf. At quarter past, Buffy was still amiable about the wait, but by quarter to two, she was getting cranky. Which is not a thing that anybody wants to happen to a slayer in a town of less than normal people. Lupin hadn't seemed like the type to be late for a meeting, especially one he had organised himself. When someone tapped her on the shoulder she almost snapped, and turned to viciously reprimand her tutor for being late when she realised it wasn't him.

Instead it was a fellow student whom, for a moment, she didn't recognise. Then she placed the adoring look and realised that this was the boy she had saved the weekend before, almost unrecognisable with the gaunt paleness of his cheeks after his terrifying drop replaced with a more natural flush and roundness.

"Oh… Hi. How's it going?" Buffy smiled at him her voice friendly at least though it lacked its usual enthusiasm as she quickly fixed her attention back on the door. The boy didn't seem too put off by this reaction, and actually took it as welcome enough to join her at the table.

"I just wanted to say thanks… for catching me. I don't know how you got there in time," the boy… Neville, she pulled the name from her memories of Sunday's events, stammered looking over with wide eyes full of admiration.

"It was nothing," Buffy murmured, not wanting to make anything more of the event. "Your friend, Harry. He took your broom?"

"My?..." he said confused "Oh no! That's Harry's broom. He just let me have a go. No-one else in the school has a Firebolt." He gushed, the way his voice capitalised the name of the broom making it obvious that this was something to be impressed with, but Buffy, still peeved at Remus' tardiness was in no mood to show interest in wizarding gizmos.

"Um, well," he spotted Buffy's empty glass in the awkward silence. "Can I at least get you a drink to say thanks?"

"Sure," Buffy replied, absentmindedly smiling at his generosity while all her attention was still focused on sensing the werewolves' approach. As Neville waited up at the bar an owl swooped in through the window and circled above the heads of the bars patrons before landing on the table in front of Buffy, making it rock on the unevenly tiled floor. The bird squawked in surprise at the motion of its perch, but that was nothing compared to its reaction when the proprietor bustled over with a cloth in her hand, hitting at the bird with whipping motions. Buffy barely had time to remove the message as the owl escaped the Innkeepers' attacks, flying out of the window as soon as its job was complete.

Once the offending bird had escaped, the woman rounded on the recipient of its message and, according to her angry tirade, the cause of all the mayhem prompted by the birds' presence. Buffy made suitable apologies and finally some of the colour faded from her face and Rosmerta returned to her bar where a flock of students were enjoying the show as they waited for their butterbeers, muttering under her breath that 'everyone knows I don't allow personal mail to be delivered… turning the bar into an owlery…'

When service had once more returned to normal, Buffy finally got a chance to read her mail, ripping it open as a way to relieve her anger at its writer when she recognised the handwriting.

On a piece of stained parchment Remus Lupin's unusually untidy scrawl apologised for his inability to meet her, citing last minute events as the cause for his lack of attendance. For that she might have forgiven him, but the post script raised her hackles once more.

_P.S. I hope Rosmerta wasn't too mad._

Why on earth did he contact her in this way, evidently knowing full well the reaction it would cause in the bars' owner? She was still seething when Neville returned with two butterbeers. Dumping them on the table in thoughtless enthusiasm that caused them to spill over, splashing onto Buffys' clothes. Ironically enough this action, that sent the poor boy into an endless flood of apologies, was what broke the slayer out of her disappointment. His ineffectual attempts at composure, so like those she remembered from her former friends, made it so that she couldn't help but find him endearing. She laughingly stopped his attempts to clear up the mess that had been her outfit and told him to sit.

He hesitantly took the chair still looking at her now blotched clothing with a worried expression. Somehow, despite all attempts to alienate herself, she seemed to have acquired another friend at Hogwarts.

"So… was the flight worth falling off?" she asked, startling him out of his fixation with her teasing tone.

He met her eyes with an expression that men in every culture seem to reserve for their love of sport.

"Oh yes. You know I really don't know how you managed to catch me. No one else had even seen me slip and you were right there to catch me"

"You seemed too shaken to notice that..." Buffy began, unsure she liked where the conversation was going.

"Well... yes" Neville blushed bright red and looked down into his lap, embarrassed by his behaviour that day "But Harry, well he cant stop..." He stopped again, unsure if he should continue.

"You're good friends with Harry then?" She deflected, allowing him to keep his secrets by taking the conversation along a tangent.

"Well we weren't always, In first year I tried to stop him going after _you know who_..."

As Neville talked Buffy started to get some idea of the boy behind those distrustful green eyes, slowly understanding that he had as much reason to doubt the world as she did.


	32. Static Pictures

_**Wordcount:**_- _68,440  
_

_**A/N:**_- _So... apparently I lie about the timing of my updates even when I'm saying I wont... I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not. Anyway yet again no promises for more as I get all guilty about breaking them. But I've kinda got back into this fic thanks to going through some of the wonderful reviews I've got these past few years. So yay to you guys! Anyway I hope you all enjoy.  
_

_**Static Pictures**_

They say time flies when you're having fun. Well the same is true for when you're insanely busy, as Buffy found out over the next few weeks. She had supposedly caught up four years over the Summer, but both she and her teachers knew this was not true and her extra lessons were often taken up with giving her the background to what they did in Class after the event, feeling bizarrely like she was being fed her dessert before she got a chance to try the main course, let alone properly digest it.

Weeks whisked by with barely a chance for her to catch her breath, so overwhelmed was she by the sheer workload placed upon her. She hardly had time to see Anthony outside meals or shared study, with his duties as a Prefect and her extra lessons monopolising any time they could have spent socialising. Buffy usually so mentally and magically exhausted after her post-dinner studies that she couldn't do more than climb the stairs to her room and collapse into bed.

Which is why the fact that it was Friday put such a spring into her step. Not only would the weekend allow her a well deserved lie in, but her evening lesson was one of the few that she actually enjoyed; Herbology. Hearing the hour bell ring from the great clock that somehow managed to make its presence known throughout the castle; at night the reverberations of its toll in the dormitory towers helped to lull wakeful students to sleep, Buffy started to hurry. Despite Professor Sprouts apparent liking of her, it wouldn't do to test the teachers' patience.

She rushed from dinner to the Greenhouses, finally falling through the doorway with an apology to her teacher and coming face to face with the last person she had expected to find. Her newest friend, if you could call them that given their limited interaction, in an animated conversation with the Professor. They were so engrossed in fact that neither noticed her arrival, caught up in the fascinating plant which they were carefully trimming.

Buffy moved through the foliage to the end of the Greenhouse where both botanists were coaxing a bloom of shrinking violet out from the shadows so that her sweet nectar could be harvested. The plant spotted her, or sensed her as so many of the 'creatures' in the wizarding world seemed able to, and edged out of its hiding place behind its leaves to take a closer look.

Unfortunately for the violet this was exactly what Neville needed. In a lightning-fast strike requiring reflexes which were impressive even for a Slayer to see, he grasped the stem below the flower in a firm grip which held the bloom still whilst carefully avoided damaging the vine-thin stem. While Neville contained its movement, Professor Sprout used a small syringe to extract what they needed from the where the nectar was produced, just below the flower.

Like a well oiled machine Neville released the flower without a comment from the Professor; the pair continuing the conversation as they worked in an easy tandem to collect what was needed. Their relaxed nature and synchronicity speaking of a close professional relationship, no one could work so smoothly with another without a lot of practice.

It almost reminded her of herself and Angel before everything had gone wrong. They had spent so much time fighting together that they could jump into a fight and silently work together to defeat their foes, always knowing exactly when to throw their assailant at the other to be staked or duck below the others strike at their target. When one or the other of them was being overwhelmed and needed their partner to jump into the fray. It had been a beautiful demonstration of their trust, their love.

Shaking her head to drive out those thoughts, those feelings. She could think about that later. When she could take out her pain on the beings in the dark wood she could just about make out through the plants and glass; a black smudge on the horizon in the shadows of dusk now that it was getting dark earlier in the evening.

"Ahem" She coughed loudly to interrupt the conversation at the first opportunity she saw when the shock might not cause damage to the plant.

Regardless of her attempts to be careful, the announcing of her presence had a catastrophic reaction on the boy who, jumping in surprise, managed to catch himself up in his stool and fall over backwards into a sack of compost. Professor Sprout on the other hand merely looked on serenely as Buffy helped the now soil covered, red-faced boy.

"Buffy, I'm glad you've arrived. Neville's been doing an excellent job helping me with the Shrinking Violets, so tonight's as good a time as any to discuss them." Nevilles face got, if possible, even redder at the praise. Little did he know this wasn't to be the height of his embarrassment. "I'm sure he can tell you the basic uses and techniques used to harvest them while we work, I'm training him up to take over after all." It was odd to see the Professor teasing a student, but as Buffy smiled in response to the wink sent in her direction from the woman, Neville overcame his shock and began to talk; proving to his favorite teacher that he was more than capable of doing what she claimed.

"The Shrinking Violet is primarily grown for its nectar" He started as he deftly caught another purple flower and held it towards Buffy. "Place your syringe at the base of the flower and angle it down the stem." The Professor, handing the needle to Buffy, walked off amongst the rows of plants; knowing her student was in good hands.

"No" He stopped her in an authoritative tone that seemed strange on the usually shy boy "Make the angle steeper and go in about half that much… that's better!" Here he was in his element. "This nectar is used in many potions for the concealment properties it imbues…"

By the time Buffy got back from her Lesson, which had been vastly extended as she watched Neville come alive discussing plants and their uses with her, the common room had quieted. Though the 'discussion' had been mostly one sided, the boy ranting about his favorite topic as he showed her around the Greenhouses and her merely marveling at the change that came over him once he was talking about something he was secure with. Looking about her she tried to spot a friendly face amongst those still persevering to enjoy the free evening, but the older students had already retired for the evening and she didn't know any of the lower years well enough to join in their discussions.

She quietly sorted her school bags and readied for bed, but was unable to get to sleep. Buffy may have forgotten the other reason she looked forward to the weekends but the Slayer within her had not, and was more than ready to be unleashed on the dark forest that hedged the castle. She listened in silence, with senses that were slowly getting stronger as the power within her made ready for the night ahead, as one by one the groups made their way up the stairs to their respective dormitories. When finally the tower was quiet Buffy snuck out and darted around the corner to open the doorway to her secret stair.

Some of the tension within her faded as she stepped out into the grounds; the slayer had been cadged by the castle walls, but was now free. She ran through the shadows, somehow a part of them though common sense would dictate that someone with golden hair and skin would stand out in the dark, sighing as she entered the shelter of the trees and she was truly out of sight from the castle.

The forest was quieter than usual, something about this night causing even the benign creatures which usually made it feel alive with their constant movement to be silent. She moved quietly further between the trunks, trying to make out the cause of this unnatural silence. Her senses slowly heightening as she released her slayer within to feel what was happening. Which creatures were threatening this peaceful night. The only sound was the wind whistling through the trees, slowly getting louder alongside the increasing blast of air.

The first crack echoed across the lake and, hitting the trees with its wave of water amplified sound. The wood itself seemed to absorb the noise, as if by accepting that it could somehow prevent what was to come. Turning back to face the way she had come Buffy just about made out the flash of light through the trunks which proceeded another crash. She walked to the edge of the tree-line and saw why the denizens of the woods had been so quiet.

A wave of torrential rain was making its way across the lake. This wasn't just a shower, it was a storm and somehow she was inside it. In the heart of the storm, safe for a moment as it raged before her. Making its way in sheets of lightning and rain. The line which separated the choppy water from the near, eerily calm waves was slowly edging closer with the downpour. Buffy took off at a sprint.

The creatures of the forest had battened down the hatches, so to speak, all retreating into whatever hideaway they could to escape the coming storm which these animals seemed to have predicted far more accurately than any human could have. There would be nothing above ground to play with, to fight and Buffy had no intention of getting any more wet than was entirely necessary.

The wall of water hit her five paces from the entrance to the stairwell, and in those few steps it took to reach the slight shelter offered by the castle walls the torrent soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone. Shivering as she made her way up the staircase to Rowenas office, Buffy finally collapsed in front of the blazing fire.

When the shaking had died down to a muted shudder every once in a while, she left her spot. Looking about the room, feeling the space in a way she never had before. She hadn't ever been in this room when her slayer senses were on high, true she had delved into this other power of hers but that wasn't the same as the way it flared when adrenaline ran through her system preparing her for a fight ahead. She had gone into the forest hoping for a fight and now her whole body thrummed with the power coursing through her veins.

There was something off. Something hidden. Her slayer senses warning her to look out for things that weren't as they seemed. Her gaze travelled uncontrollably about the room until it alighted on the portrait behind the desk. There. A door… or something behind that picture.

But there was more wrong with the picture than this feeling she had. It was almost bewildering to think that she hadn't noticed before, but then again growing up amongst muggles the moving pictures that were so common in this world still seemed out of the ordinary. Not that the movement was what was wrong, on the contrary, the odd thing about this painting was its utter stillness. There was no more life in this painting than in those that stood in her adoptive mothers' gallery.

She moved to take a closer look at the image, a teenage girl in a stunning red gown, and when she found no more clues to the secrets to be found within there, she tried focusing her power. Giles had tried so hard to teach her the ways to hone her slayer senses so that she could feel the direction, even number of vampires as a pose to merely the general vicinity. But unfortunately for him in Sunnydale it wasn't really a necessary skill to have, opponents were so plentiful that she rarely had to seek out nests, and the energies of the hellmouth made such focus more difficult than usual. Therefore this was a skill which Buffy had always had difficulties with.

Failing to refine her search in this manner, Buffy switched to less mystical means. Namely she ran her fingers along the edge of the solid wood frame searching for any keyholes or catches. She was almost shocked when her search yielded the discovery of a small latch on the left hand side of the frame, hidden from sight behind the lip of the wood. Moving this resulted in a muffled click within the wall and the painting and wall behind swung inwards to reveal a darkened room beyond.

"Huh, that was easy" Buffy shrugged "I wonder why they bothered." It might not have been the simplest thing to find, but it seemed a little unnecessary to have a secret door which emanated waves of complex magical energies; a telling sign of the spells placed to protect the door and lock, and then have it all open at the flick of a lever. A hidden lever admittedly, but the whole concept was more reminiscing of clichéd horror movies than anything else in the castle. She half expected the doorway to lead into a passage behind the walls where she could look out through paintings eyeholes. Except the artwork here all moved, well barring the painting she'd just stepped through anyway, so it would be hard to know your eyes were disguised.

"Appearances can be deceiving."

The voice echoed out of the shadows behind the portrait, but before she could make any kind of retort, something attacked. It was fast and painfully solid where it hit. Buffy tried to retaliate but it was like hitting stone, unyielding and ineffectual. Soon she was backed into the desk with no retreat left.


	33. Blood Meets Blood

_**Wordcount:**_- _ 69,823_

_**A/N:**_- _So... more again allready =D I seem to be kinda re-inspired by this a bit (spending the last week kinda engrossed in KttP/OotP related reading possibly had something to do with that). Ooh plus this kinda has... something about her family... it's a short chapter, but hey anything beats nothing huh? This is all (strange as it may sound as I keep taking so long to get chaps out) a event that I planned out about 4 years ago. I have this notebook full of ideas/plans which hopefully will all eventually get typed up. Enough of my ranting... enjoy =D_

_Serrafina – wow thanks, I'm glad it's all believable to you. To be honest some of the places I'm going with this aren't entirely believable to me... (perhaps why I stopped updating for so long) so if you continue to read please feel free to yell at me if/when I fall off the fine line that is required to make fanfiction believable in two separate universes._

_Allen Pitt- you can't fully comprehend how thrilled I am that you're still about and reading this! I've always loved/worried about your amazing insight in your reviews and so many of your comments have helped me solidify my ideas into something that works... so thanks =D On a annoying note... the chapter where she finds out about her family (which was as I said aaaages ago one after a chap set on her birthday) is now... well there's a load of other chaps that appeared in between :( sorry. Something fun is already planned for the Xmas hols... I just have to get there first._

_Rebecca Pierson – Woop 500__th__ review!! Wow I really can't believe I have so many! Thanks for being so understanding about the time its taken me... I get so guilty about leaving my readers in the lurch. And your ideas... well read on._

_Solitude's Sprite- yes, I am evil... I do know this. I have been told it often. I tried not to keep you in suspense too long._

_... , hmmm, Stephanie thank you for your reviews... and now to the important part ;P_

_**Blood Meets Blood**_

It, she, was white. An almost death-like pale, reminiscent of the vampires she was used to fighting but this was cold, freezing cold. Not the chill of flesh without life to heat it. This was the solid iciness of something that was never meant to hold any warmth. Flesh as solid as stone, as cold as marble.

That, Buffy realised as she scrambled over the desk into the clear space before the windows, was exactly what it was. A beautifully carved marble statue somehow brought to life; the muscles, even veins perfectly depicted on the visible skin to a degree which would have made a master proud. There were other statues and figures in Hogwarts that moved, responding to commands like the bronze Ravenclaw eagle, but there was nothing to this degree.

Somehow this work of art was in motion, and more than that, it had an intelligence of some form granting it the skill to fight. And it was bent on destroying her.

She parried a punch, moving back and deflecting the hit from its path by knocking her forearm against the statues'. The problem was retaliating was almost as painful as when she was hit, her whole arm shuddering under the force of the hit, numbing her hand as the shock of the impact deadened nerves. Stumbling back again she managed to duck under the next punch but wasn't fast enough to avoid the kick that followed, impacting on her ribs to send her flying across the room into the desk.

There was blood in her mouth; she could taste the coppery tang. Buffy wiped the back of her hand across her lips as she stood, unsurprised when it came away bloody. She looked across the room at the doorway out. All she could do was try to beat this thing back, give herself enough time to reach the doorway. Buffy got the impression that the statue was tied to this room somehow, the last time she had gotten closer to the door than her opponent, she had quickly been beaten back until the sculpture once more stood between her and the escape route.

Buffy ran to attack the figure at lightning speed, hitting once with her left and following through with her right in an attempt to distract from the sweeping kick she planned to use to topple the statue. Suddenly, even as her attacks were parried and blocked with startling skill the marble girl stopped, dropping to her knees in front of Buffy. Half way through her kick, Buffy was unstabled by this sudden change; almost losing her balance enough to fall on top of her opponent.

"Welcome Slayer."

"Huh... what? How do you… who are you?" Buffy asked staring incredulously at the kneeling form before her. Only moments before she had been battling for her life and now. Now she didn't have a clue what was going on. At least when she was fighting it was simple. Not always easy, as the cut on her lip and various bruises she could feel forming on almost every part of her flesh would attest, but usually pretty straightforward.

"I am Camilla." The statue stated, as if this was a name she should know, or be aware of in some way. "Where is your Guardian?"

"Guardian… you mean Watcher?" Buffy asked, not sure what was going on.

"If that is what they are now called."

"I… um, I don't really have one anymore." That made the stone girl look more carefully at Buffy, obviously taking note of the modern attire, close fitting clothes with no visible weapons on her.

"You… you were not brought here for training?" The statue sounded uncertain for the first time since emerging out of her hiding place, looking more like the teenage girl she was carved to be as her fierce control over her body left it, taking a more relaxed pose in her confusion.

"Well, yeah… in a way. I mean it's a magic school right?" She knew the girl wasn't asking that, but couldn't help the response. It had become so fixed in her mind that Slayers and Wizards were separate beings, separate worlds, that this physical evidence of their former unity was hard to believe. A magically living statue that knew about slayers. It was hard to get her head around.

"You're a witch?" If Buffy had thought she was confused by her lack of a watcher, now the girl was truly baffled.

"That's what they tell me."

It had been so recent that Buffy still didn't quite believe the change. She had been learning magic for nearly four months but it wasn't what she was, who she was. All of her time spent perfecting this other power had only really proved once and for all that what she really was. Demonstrated the truly overwhelming nature of her slayerness.

"But how…" Camilla reached up, touching the still bleeding split on Buffys lip. She felt… something wash through her as the statue touched the open wound. "You are the Slayer. It is in your blood." The way she said it. This figure understood, could somehow comprehend what those words really meant.

"I know."

"And… you are a witch as well?" the tone was begging for a negative response.

"Yes…" Buffy confirmed, wondering where this might be going.

"Oh." The Statue seemed stumped by that. "I didn't think we could be both."

She had half expected, hoped even that she might finally discover why magic users so feared knowledge of slayers, but the girl just seemed bewildered by the situation, not worried about this mix of magic and slaying. Buffy picked up on something though that sparked her curiosity.

"We?"

"I am… I was once the slayer." Back to speaking about things she knew and understood, the statues' voice became surer. She walked purposefully through the secret doorway behind the portrait, motioning for Buffy to follow. "Since the time of the Founders this place has existed as a safe-haven, a sanctuary for our kind."

As they moved through the darkened passage torches burst alight to either side brightening the corridor leading up to a large round room with padded leather flooring. Lit just from a small central light above she couldn't clearly see what was on the walls of the room, but Buffy could just about make out other passageways leading off straight ahead and to the left and right.

"It is a place to hone your skills" They stepped into the domed room and it brightened so suddenly Buffy had to cover her eyes. The panels of what looked like a vast glass domed roof all lit up as if there was sunlight streaming through them into the room. Her eyes quickly adjusting, Buffy took in what she had been unable to see before.

Hanging on every available space were weapons of every type a slayer could need; crossbows, axes, a vast collection of swords and knives. Buffy realised belatedly that she would no longer need her makeshift quarterstaff, a piece of wood scavenged from the forest to be used in training. Here was everything she required.

"Expand your knowledge and record your feats." The darkened passageways lit up at these words, flickering flames revealing rows of bookcases. It wasn't as vast as the Hogwarts library, but it looked like this collection exceeded Giles'. The sheer magnitude of this place overwhelmed her with so many questions she couldn't fix on one to ask first.

"For centuries I have protected this place, helped to train those of our blood." There was that word again. Everything coming down to the blood. Something in the way she spoke those words made Buffy thought of why and how grind to a halt and question this instead.

"By blood you mean 'the sisterhood of slayers' or some such?"

"Yes. However distant a relation we were before, we are all sisters once we come into our power."

"Huh… relation?" This… statue, slayer, girl… whatever she was, seemed incapable of talking in anything but riddles. Everything she said working on the assumption that Buffy understood what was behind it, that she somehow shared this knowledge of the background to their strength.

"Of course. The potential to become a slayer is a trait handed down from mother to daughter."

_**A/N:**_- _Like it? hate it? so confused you dont have a clue what's going on? let me know!_


	34. Extra Tuition

_**Wordcount:**_- _72,313  
_

_**A/N:**_- _Okay, first off this was nominated for the Crossing Over Awards at tth which is just... wow.... It's really amazing that anyone thinks my story is good enough for that. So yay =D it gave me all these happy feelings (a bit like your wonderful reviews do) and made me get even more into writing this monstrosity... not that I really needed the encouragement (though the expectations you guys seem to have do kinda scare me... I hope I can live up to them). This fic is taking over my brain... which is unfortunate as I might need it back when I return to work tomorrow._

_**A/N2:**_-_Wierd text error fixed (I think/hope) Note to self... never copy paste into this Document interface.  
_

_Allen Pitt – See! You always know what I'm getting at... love it. Honestly I almost don't get why you still read as you're so quick to follow my comments through to the (I think) logical conclusion. It's really great to see as it makes me believe that somewhere in all this my story must make sense._

_TheStatue – I think a lot of the questions about the hidden room/wizard-slayer connection are answered here... so I'll leave that for you to read on ;). About Buffy after the exams, a looong time ago in a review reply here I mentioned that (in my version of the HP cannon) I think training up to O.W.L. level is mandatory if you wish to keep your wand, after that school is voluntary (depending on age as under 17 this decision would be your parents) therefore once O.W.L.s are over it will be up to Buffy/Dumbledore what happens next. She was in a sense deported from the U.S. but they made sure blame wouldn't be attributed to her so she could return (assuming the American Bureau grant her the witching form of a visa – what she was lacking before). I haven't entirely made my mind up about Angel, though he wouldn't be paired with her in a literal sense if he did (that pesky curse). I'm glad I still manage to be plausible =D and hopefully I won't let you down too much with those pesky clichés._

_XinnLajgin – Thanks =D_

_Serrafina – I had to do the same when I started writing again... and I should know all the puzzle pieces. I do have them neatly written down (or... clearly as my handwriting could never be called neat). _

_Tommy14 – most of that will be revealed now =D_

_Nightshadowlife – I'll try to keep up the good work :s I've never been quite sure what people like about it so it's hard to know what will put them off =D I just follow my thoughts and hope._

_Marla – it's always special to get a review from someone who doesn't usually so thanks! It's nice to know I'm keeping some originality with an admittedly overused premise. Thank you for your kind words._

_... – there are no plans for a Buffy pairing at present... it might change if I do a sequel (once I finally finish this off) but unless the characters somehow get control and take this a route I'm not planning at the moment (which admittedly does happen) it won't happen yet._

_**Extra Tuition**_

She had thought when she first read Clause 73 and made the assumption that Slayers had somehow been part of this, one of the 'creatures' which nations were required to conceal, that the relationship between wizards and slayers had been a passive one. Obviously, given the necessity for the later Clause 75 and the following blackout of anything that might refer to a slayer this had somehow gone wrong. But Buffy had never suspected that the two worlds had once been so tightly intertwined.

In the only magic school in Britain, they had an entire area devoted to providing training and aid to slayers. It was evident even from what little Buffy had been told, that Guardians, as Camilla had called them, acted to a large extent like the Watchers did nowadays, researching and recording where required. She made a mental note to ask more about what they did, but for now there were more important things to do. It was the time to fight.

It was exhilarating to battle an opponent who could truly match her. To be fair that was an exaggeration of Buffys skills, Camilla by far out classing her in every area of combat. The girl had been critical about her fighting style, messy and clumsy, and downright insulting about her swordsmanship, halting their sparring immediately and refusing to cross swords again with Buffy until after she'd "Learnt enough to not hurt herself."

Initially she had tried to argue this point, but Buffy was forced to agree that most of the reason she could successfully outmanoeuvre Giles in a swordfight was the advantage she had in both speed and strength, not skill. Her only battle with someone who might be considered an equal in those respects hadn't been an easy victory by any means. Though she had beaten Angelus with her fast thinking and quick reactions, it hadn't been prowess with a blade that had won the day.

They had returned to sparring hand-to-hand and, though initially she had resented Camillas constant comments and corrections.

"Have your back heel further to the left."

"Don't lean too much into your punches."

Buffy quickly appreciated how much she could learn. She had gone into the initial fight as she would do a sparring match with her Watcher, toned down to a more human level, but now she had a trainer that matched her in speed and strength. Once Buffy upped her game to that degree she started to gain more praise from her trainer, mixed in with the suggestions for improvement.

By the time Buffy asked for a halt, panting for breath, the huge clock in the entrance hall, reverberating throughout the castle, had boomed out 1 o'clock.

"How come..." Buffy tried to ask breathlessly but had to catch herself and start again "How come before when we fought you were... solid but now..."

"Now my skin has more give? Part of it is the enchantment upon me, this body was a marble statue and so naturally it is very hard. When I am defending the room it helps to drive back opponents." Camilla paused "But also... My skin wouldn't have... softened to this degree without you."

"Me?"

"Yes, because I am, was a slayer... I can borrow some of your power, become more human. We're connected by calling, by blood so I can...." she petered off, embarrassed by what she was saying.

"So when you could tell what I was by my blood... It was because you can take the power?"

"Sort of. It's not harmful, my sister didn't want to hurt us she just thought if I could be animate enough to help others train it might... it might mean more survived longer."

"Your sister? She made you... like this?"

"She was a great witch." She smiled fondly "When I died she still wanted to help slayers, so she used some of my blood to track down the next one and brought her back her, to her school to be trained. The girl died not long after, insisted she was ready and so Ro let her go but..." she shook her head, still upset at the long forgotten loss.

"That slayer taught us a valuable lesson; much as she wanted to help, my sister had no real understanding of physical combat since she had always helped me using magic. So Ro took the reflection of my spirit, which had been put into the painting outside, and moulded this body out of stone to house it. It wasn't perfect, it requires energy to power animated transfigurations and most of what this land has is used by the school. I can fight in the stone form almost indefinitely, but to spar in a way that is painless to others, I need more energy."

"Your sister, she was called..." Buffy had a feeling she knew the answer, the location of the room was too private for it to be anyone but...

"Rowena, Rowena Ravenclaw." Camilla interrupted Buffy, proudly stating the name of her famous sibling.

"So... is that why..." Buffy trailed off thoughtfully

"What?"

"Why I was placed in Ravenclaw." Buffy had never quite trusted her placing by the hat, never understood why it had put her where it had.

"Oh you mean the sorting hat thing of Godrics? No... slayers that came to Hogwarts were never sorted. That was for the magic kids. I was never really sure what old Griff told the hat to decide by." She grinned almost cheekily at the memories of her friend. "It was always meant to split students by the founders 'core beliefs' but Ro used to get annoyed that there was a ridiculously clever child stuck in Hufflepuff, or wherever. I always thought from the sound of it that Griff just told the hat to put the kids where it thought they'd fit in best. Where they could fulfil their potential. That would have been like him."

"Oh." She wasn't sure how to react to that, why would the hat think she would fit in amongst the cleverest students in the school, she didn't know. They sat in silent for a bit, Camilla patiently waiting for all the other questions she knew Buffy was dying to ask.

"You said something about Guardians?" Buffy finally said when she had cleared her head.

"It was what the ones who took over after" Camilla paused, having to force herself to think about less happy times "after my sister died called themselves. She organised that slayers would always be welcome here, and that witches and wizards who wanted to help the fight against vampires and demons could use her office and this room. They looked after each other, and I looked after them."

"So they... recorded what the slayers were doing and helped them research what was going on?" Buffy summarised what was essentially the standard relationship between Watcher and Slayer.

"That too, but they tended to fight together mostly. Magic is useful to get about to where a slayer was needed at any one time, and especially good for healing afterwards. We might heal fast but it still helps."

Buffy nodded, having had her own experience of the usefulness of basic healing spells.

"It was because of them that we first noticed the family connection. They realised that slayers often seemed to be related in some way to past ones, and one Guardian discovered that they were all connected by a common maternal line. He thought it had been a curse, placed long ago on our distant foremother; that her line would forever be called upon to protect the world."

"If it was all working so well... why did it stop?"

"I don't know, when I am not needed I sort of sleep. It is hard to keep going for long without a sister slayer here to lend me some energy so I rest unless I have to defend this place or train someone new." She had a thought and waved towards an area of books with shelves five bookcases deep "There might be something in the diaries about it."

"Wouldn't you have known if there were people here, even without a slayer you'd be activated when they open the door, right?"

"Not if they used the right knock first. Then the alarm doesn't sound."

"A secret knock?" Buffy laughed "How very cloak and dagger of you."

"Well if you don't want to know it..." She had never seemed more like a real teenager as she sulked at Buffys reaction to their security measures.

"I didn't say that" Buffy calmed the girl and finally convinced her that, yes she would like to know the 'secret knock' though she thought it might be more fun to ignore it and wake up her newfound trainer whenever she came to the hidden room.

That night she slept on the bedroom which came off the landing above the passage to the domed room, Camilla had been almost surprised that she was planning on going anywhere else, still not quite used to the idea that Buffy was both a witch and a slayer. Apparently the room had been added as a place for her to sleep when she visited her sister at the castle, and was later used by the slayers that followed. Rowena herself had slept in a room more accessible to students so she would be available should a member of her house need help.

Most of her weekend was spent in the secret room, improving her combat skills and trying, without any success, to find any mention of the reason for the rift between slayers and wizards. This meant that by Monday Buffy was severely behind with her work on all her courses. She had to scribble out a summary of Wilbert Slinkhards opinions on 'the necessity of retreat over combat whenever possible' in the morning on Monday before wolfing down some breakfast and getting to class just in front of Professor Umbridge. She managed to sit herself at the desk just before the latch clicked, heralding the expected greeting of

"Good Morning Class." The lesson to be spent reading yet further into the book that somehow managed to take boredom onto new levels, despite its subject matter, looked set to be as mind-numbing as always. Casting a glance about to the Hufflepuff students, all ahead of the teacher with their books open at the correct page and reading, or at least pretending to, in relative quiet, Buffy opened her book and joined them.

The following lesson, Herbology Buffy luckily had no homework for as she had managed to get all the answers she needed on care and harvesting of Aconite during her talk with Neville the previous Friday. After a long lesson carefully re-potting a new harvest of Ginger Catnip, a vicious variety of feline plant whose flowers had vicious petals with a tendency to spike would-be harvesters. As there were no open buds on the young plants, all they could do was hit the students as they worked, though this did result in a few acquiring small round bruises.

By lunch time all Buffy wanted to do was eat, but if she didn't want to be severely reprimanded by Professor Snape in her upcoming class she knew most of the break would have to be spent in the Library finishing the essay she had been set. Hoping that if she went early while it was quiet she might manage to finish and grab a bite to eat before class, Buffy rushed to find a quiet table, setting out her parchment and quills before hunting down the book she needed and getting to work.

The sentence she had just written, and crossed through when she read the next passage in the book to find the author contradicting himself, disappeared from the parchment leaving a barely distinguishable trail of magic sparks in its wake. She sensed a presence behind her before he spoke.

"I thought you might need some help correcting your work, after all we can't expect a muggle raised delinquent to learn how things are done here." That sneering tone was easily recognisable.

Suddenly she knew where all the rumours and partial truths about her family had come from. Padma had warned her that his family was rich and well connected, but she hadn't expected him to take revenge for a simple rebuke by telling the whole school her life story. Luckily no one in the magic world knew certain aspects of her life.

"I could help you with some... private tuition, since you so obviously need it." The allusions to something which had nothing to do with learning magic weren't lost on her. Buffy turned to look at him for the first time in their conversation to find Draco Malfoy, flanked as always on either side by his two large friends, looking down proudly at her. "After all, you somehow have to scrape a pass in your O.W.L.s this year."

"Thanks, but I think I'll manage without help from the Stupid Slytherins Society... it isn't that I'm not thrilled for you that Umbridge let you keep it going. What would Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber do without you?" Buffy smirked as she watched a faint blush cover his face. He may enjoy using them as muscle, but the boy was too intelligent in his own right to not know his friends limits. "Plus I don't think I'd have enough time to properly participate, your little club meets up so often."

He started to fume at the insinuation, but she was saved from whatever response the boy had been concocting behind his clenched teeth by the approach of Madam Pince, her cutting "sssh" somehow she had perfected a noise which could cut through any volume of chatter. Looking across to where the librarian was standing glaring at them, Buffy caught sight of someone else looking at her with equal intensity.

Hermione broke off her calculating gaze to murmur something to Ron and Harry. Straining to hear what had so interested the girl, Buffy managed to pick up the redheads whispered response.

"Who's right about what?" Both of the boys were now looking at Hermione and she glanced for a moment back to where Buffy was sitting, now alone as the Slytherins had decided to leave her alone rather than invite the ire of Madam Pince by continuing their loud conversation.

"About... never mind. I need to speak to McGonagall." She collected up her books and rushed out of the library, leaving Ron looking confused in her wake.

"Blimey... girls, I'll never get them." He commented to Harry, but his friend had followed Hermiones glance to the girl that had unwittingly sparked an idea in the overachievers' head. Buffy pretended to work, ignoring the looks in her direction, but the scratch of her quill meant she missed whatever response Harry gave.

Soon she was once more involved in her work, without a thought to what repercussions these innocent lunchtime conversations might cause.

_**A/N:**_- _sooooo... can ya see where I'm going with this? want to guess? and how do you like the current state of my slayer mythos? I hope it's believable. I convinced myself... but then I have weird thoughts sometimes... alright most of the time._


	35. No House to Call Home

_**Wordcount:- **__74,734_

_**A/N:- **__Yay, so even more done! And no one guessed where I was going with what happened in the lib... which might be good or bad... not entirely sure yet =D Despite being back at work... and kinda busy in general I still seem to find time to write more of this (whether I want to or not) which is probably a good thing. I've also been editing/formatting some of the earlier chapters a bit, hopefully those updates will get up here by the weekend... or something. It depends how much time I spend doing other things. To be honest do you want me to update old chapters or produce new ones?_

_Allen Pitt – yep Buffy definitely has a lot on her plate, she won't be visiting Sunnydale over xmas. Though I will be addressing the home issue as it is out of character for her to have gone quite so long without thinking too much of contacting them. Remember that this is now kinda mid-late Oct, not much more than a month after when she went home in S3... and she had been a lot busier in my 'verse than she was in LA. It was actually pointed out to me in another review of the last chapter (on tth) that the timeline of hiding Slayers from the Wizarding world is near to when Angel was called. This is actually a coincidence, though if I bring him back it might be interesting to see these events through the eyes of the demon/vampire population._

_Hermit Hideaway – thanks again for pointing out the formatting error to me, I went back to edit something and stupidly enough copy-pasted from word... not a good idea it seems._

_Tommy14 – The explanation for the laws will come... I promise! I've had all the reasons and plans for this story written for a while (say 3/4years) so I know where I'm headed, I just have to get all the in between stuff done._

_Sparky24 – lol yeah whenever I get going on this it seems I just can't stop, though they are short updates I know as that's about the amount I seem to like getting out at a time. It is quite convenient I guess about the Slayers at Hogwarts (how many implausible plot devices am I allowed?), my thoughts on it was that unless there had been some close relationship between wizards and slayers that went wrong in some way then the wizards would know about slayers (and the council about wizards... though not necessarily so much). For it to make sense to me that wizards _didn't _know about slayers (even in the 'something Hermione claims isn't real' way that some writers use) they had to have a connection at some point that caused them to deliberately step away from them. They have too close a connection with the mystic to never have known...just my thoughts about it anyway... from there this plot line developed._

_Curius – reading this again... wow that's an epic task ;) hope it didn't disappoint._

_i-hate-mornings – I do try to avoid aimless blubber... though I occasionally get distracted by interesting plot twists =D btw. Love the name... me too (especially after I finish writing at 1am and have to get up for work)._

_Frost Merry Darkness Luver – Sorry, as I've said there will definitely not be more than a B/A friendship if he does come back. And that I haven't decided upon yet._

_DABraning – there will be more on my mythos of slayers and their abilities... lots more. And eventually I will have less distant interactions between the Gryffindor trio and Buffy, I just like to approach these things at a pace I find believable =D which seems to mean really slow... ah well. Dumbledore won't be informed in this manner... don't worry all will be revealed eventually._

_Gyreflight – Thanks for the well-wishes, I'm so happy when people enjoy the pacing of this. I don't seem to know how to write anything else... not that I really try. I always find crossovers where both worlds are immediately best friends a bit odd... unless they meet under extreme circumstances it doesn't usually feel right._

_Getuie – Thanks a lot for your comments, unfortunately some of them will not always be the case. moving her into the HP world and having her constantly unconnected to the fight against Voldemort would seem (to me) like some odd anti-mary-sue where she was friends with no one and had no effect on the world (as a pose to everyone loving her and her fixing everything in the stories with her superpowers)... but I'll try not to turn her into an unnecessary addition to a fight... or a real mary-sue when the time comes. I have a while to go for that anyway._

_XinnLajgin, enchantedlight, invisible-gurl – thanks for your comments, glad you like it._

_God epic review replies... sorry... I think you can see why I didn't manage to update here last night as well as tth..._

No House to Call Home

The hour rang out, signalling the end of that day's final lesson, and so Buffy packed up the books she had open on the library table during her free period before dinner, and headed towards the great hall. On her way down from the fourth floor she met up with many other students, joining the steady streams flowing out of the classrooms and all heading towards the same destination. As she came up to the D.A.D.A classroom on the first floor two of the best known Gryffindors walked out, looking anxiously behind them into the classroom before a voice determinedly dismissed them. Hermione was forced to drag Ron away before he irritated the High Inquisitor, who was already staring intently at the dark haired boy she had kept behind when Buffy glanced in the room on her way past.

And so it just happened that Buffy entered the great hall just a few steps behind the pair, who seemed almost lopsided without their third, and walked straight into Ron when they suddenly halted upon entering the room. They weren't the only ones. Almost all the school was milling about just inside the entrance to the hall, unsure of what to do with themselves.

Instead of the huge house tables which usually ran from the end of the hall all the way up to the top table where the teachers' sat, the hall was filled with small tables, each with one or two chairs. The only area which seemed unaffected by this change was the teachers' table itself where the entire staff, barring Professor Umbridge were seated, mostly looking about as baffled by the situation as the students.

The exceptions to this rule were Professor Snape, who only ever got more annoyed by anything he couldn't entirely understand, and Professor McGonagall, who looked bizarrely pleased about the situation, her obvious understanding and enjoyment of whatever was going on only adding to the Potions Masters ire, his glares alternating between the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress. Professor Dumbledore himself looked as calm as ever, the twinkle in his eye if possible increased as more students arrived, having to look over or make their way through their compatriots to discover what the problem was.

The noise level in the hall had been slowly been rising as more students arrived to find the hall in its current state and added their voices to the discussions as to why their house tables had been split in this manner. Some of the students sat themselves down at the tables, generally sticking to the ones in the area where their house usually sat, but most stayed still near the doorway, unsure of what to do.

When the normal time for dinner to commence arrived, Dumbledore rose to his feet and slowly, some who hadn't seen hushed by friends who noticed the man stand, the students quieted until only the sound of breathing permeated the huge space.

"It has been brought to my attention that this school has been supporting, encouraging even, organisations which place the continuing education of all students at risk. In accordance with Educational Decree #24 the four Houses are herby disbanded." Dumbledore paused, waiting for the wave of complaint which followed not just from the students, but from the Professors also. He stood uncaring in the midst of the noise without making any attempt to quiet them, it was McGonagall who out stared all the teachers, forcing their silence through sheer willpower before quieting the students with a gesture and a glare. "They will remain so until the former Heads of House submit a request and receive approval to reform." The headmaster continued.

As if this announcement itself wasn't enough he added, almost as an afterthought "I have also been reminded that an organisation is 'a regular meeting of three or more students', not necessarily a gathering for any specific purpose, and so would like to encourage students to make the High Inquisitor aware of any such meetings." He sat and began murmuring to the Deputy Headmistress on his left before she indicated in front of them and, looking up to find the still stationary students, he gestured about the room "Please take a seat anywhere in the hall."

"McGonagall really took what I said seriously..." Hermione mused after Dumbledore had finished.

"You did this?" Ron's shouted words echoed through the great hall, silencing the worried chatter which had started to rebuild after Dumbledore's announcement.

"Could you keep your voice down?" Hermione begged, looking about at the now very silent and interested students around them before dragging Ron off to a two-person table at a mostly unoccupied area of the room. Buffy sat down at a table near some other Ravenclaw students, far enough from the pair of Gryffindors to make them feel free to talk but close enough that her Slayer hearing could pick up most of what they said.

"I just checked with McGonagall whether we had to get permission for our friendships… I might have commented that as the communal tables and House common rooms were regular meeting places; that the Houses themselves could be considered an 'organisation'."

"But 'mione... you've got rid of Gryffindor. This is worse than losing 200 points in first year!" He whined, looking warily about the hall and flinching away when he saw there were still students looking at the pair, interested in his outburst. "Everyone'll hate us."

"Don't be silly. How long do you seriously think they'll let this stand?" She sighed, exasperated at the still worried expression on Ron's face. "It's one thing the new rules stopping a club or two, no parents are going to be worried about hearing that. Think about what'll happen when all the students write home saying they have to ask permission to meet their friends, that the Houses have been disbanded."

"You think we'll be allowed to..." Ron started excitedly.

"No." She cut him off. "I know they'll make sure _that_ is still banned... but anything that makes people look closer at what the Ministry is doing at Hogwarts can't be a bad thing." Hermione directed her attention to the plate filled with food, these had appeared where necessary on every table when Dumbledore finished his speech.

Seeing that they were done talking for now, and anyway with the tables fast gaining occupants most of whom were chatting loudly about the events of the evening and preventing Buffy from hearing the pair, she opted to ignore them and concentrated on her own meal. Glancing up at the teachers table she saw most of them in animated conversations, Snape was arguing with McGonagall and Professor Flitwick was talking to Dumbledore, leaning so far over the chair usually occupied by the D.A.D.A Master that he looked as if he may fall off his own.

At that moment the doors of the great hall swung open to reveal the High Inquisitor herself, storming ahead of a deflated looking Harry Potter. The crash of the door, though not needed to gain the silence of the students, many of whom were eagerly discussing what Umbridge's reaction, did manage to make the small Charms Master jump, causing him to tumble to the floor.

The D.A.D.A Professor swept into the room in the same manner which she always seemed to adopt; a bizarre blend of complete distain and a sense of ownership. She knew she was in control, had power over all those here. This could be the only reason it took her so long to notice, striding through the hall with no reason to glance at the students; they weren't worthy of such attention. When she had gotten about half way down the hall she finally took stock of her surroundings.

She turned, for the first time an expression forming on her face not of pleasure, forced or otherwise, but of complete bewilderment. Her cold calculating eyes swept about the hall, taking in the situation in the hall before alighting on the Headmaster, her face contorting into one of polite curiosity.

"I assume there is a good reason for this, Dumbledore?" She asked in her jarring high pitched gasps, the sound unnecessarily cutting across the quiet room as everyone present waited to hear what followed.

"I would think it was obvious Delores" Dumbledore merely sat smiling amiably, even as Professor Umbridge puffed herself up to her full height at the insinuation that she had ignored some simple reason. "We are merely endeavouring to follow the most recent Educational Decree."

"What... but... nothing in Educational Decree #24 says that..."

"I believe you're wrong Professor." Dumbledore interrupted her, never raising his voice above that of a friendly chat but somehow audible throughout the hall. "It states that a regular gathering of three or more students must gain permission to reform. I have, sadly, been remiss in allowing the school houses to continue as before. I did not appreciate at first that mealtime and common-room meetings would clearly place them in this category."

She stood in silence for a moment, obviously coming to the same conclusion as Hermione about what the potential ramifications of this might be "I don't know what gave you that idea." Her lips pressed tightly together between words the only thing that displayed her anger at the situation "The houses are regulated by their Heads, and therefore are not a student organisation which is all that the Decree affects."

"But Delores, you were very adamant that teacher run clubs such as Professor Flitwick's Charms Club were included within the Decree, I understand you required lengthy discussions about the nature of spells which were to be discussed before the club was allowed to be reinstated." At these words the usually cheery countenance of the Charms Master decidedly drooped as the small man no doubt remembered whatever form of inquisition he had needed to undergo to reform his friendly club. "The Houses of Hogwarts are in many ways less closely supervised than many of the organisations you have inspected."

It was almost amusing to watch the woman's jaw work as she attempted to hide her anger. Somehow the terrible smile, so forced it almost looked like a grimace, stayed on her face; but her eyes betrayed her, her anger causing them to bulge further out from her face.

"Very well." Her voice had taken on a clipped note, trying desperately to hold onto her image in the face of what had happening "As High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, I grant Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and..." she paused for a moment turning slightly so she could lock eyes with Harry Potter who after following her in had moved quietly between the tables during the discussion to take a seat near his two friends.

The hatred flowed off her, the path of her gaze making it clear to all in the room just why she had paused. Why she would grasp at an excuse to reinstate only three houses. But the reasons that she couldn't allow word of this to escape still existed, there were powerful alumni from all the houses. "And Gryffindor permission to re-form."

"Wonderful!" Dumbledore exclaimed "I'm sure all the Students will be pleased to hear that. We will rearrange the hall and resume usage of the common rooms and dormitories once the Heads of House all have the appropriate paperwork."

"Of course..." Her entire frame seemed to sag, no doubt realising that there was no way for her to sweep this event under the rug and forget that Dumbledore had noticed this terrible inclusion in the law. The amount of paperwork required, no doubt all created and enforced by the High Inquisitor herself, must have been horrendous for it to have such an effect on her.

"Do not feel you have to rush Delores, we all know this is a complex decision to make requiring a detailed examination of the facts before you can give your approval." The sentence sounded too much like a quote from the pompous woman to be Dumbledore's own wording "To this end the Heads of the former Houses will obviously make themselves available to answer your questions. Until then" Dumbledore continued with the twinkle in his eye showing his enjoyment of the situation "all students will sleep in the Great Hall. I hope you will help us monitor for prohibited gatherings after the meal."

But Umbridge didn't have time to monitor anything after the meal. After quick whispered words between the three Gryffindors, Hermione began moving about the hall. Seemingly accidentally she would meet friends one by one, have a whispered conversation and then move on, leaving the person to whom she had spoken to move off and find another person who needed the Decree explained.

It was Anthony who, in this odd game of Chinese whispers, passed the message on to Buffy, though she had largely worked out Hermione's plan from what she had overheard earlier.

"If we all tell Umbridge about our meetings with friends we'll overload her with things to do... hopefully that and writing home about it will get rid of the stupid law."

Buffy nodded, but failed to move either towards any others or, where many students were now headed no doubt as they slipped out of the hall, to the Owlery. He stood looking at her for a moment confused before he seemed to realise his blunder. Buffy rarely hung out with anyone but him, and on occasion Neville, never in a group of more than two... and she had no one to write to. No one in the country anyway.

"Oh... uh. Sorry" He smiled apologetically, and was obviously about to make some boyish attempt at diffusing any tension his comment had caused when something distracted him.

At that point the redheaded Gryffindor twins, well known enough throughout the school for even Buffy to know one was Fred Weasley and the other was George, though even those who knew the pair well could rarely tell which was which, and a boy they often hung out with approached Umbridge where she was seated at the teachers table.

At their loud request for permission to continue their 'never ending' meeting, the hall quietened slightly once more before resuming an even louder volume at Umbridge's flustered response. Following the Weasley's example, other students started to move in groups towards the Inquisitor.

Anthony nudged Buffy indicating the line now forming with a smile and a wink. "Trust Hermione to be the only person in the school, including Umbridge, who reads all the fine-print."


	36. Where We Belong

_**Wordcount:- **__77,636  
_

_**A/N:**- So it's been a while huh? I seem to be good at having bright ideas that'll be fun to write... without a clue how to get myself out of them. ah well. my job finally slowed down so I'm no longer working 8-7 and actually have time to spend on my hobbies. so... here's the next chapter. I dont think it's my best and I'm not entirely certain it flows. but its the best I've gotten it to, and at least now I can move on... hopefully. Let me know if the characterisation is okay._

_Serrafina - it didnt happen quite like this in the books. I'm glad you like it =D_

_hermit hideaway - thanks for your lovelly comments. sorry about the wait._

_Getuie - I'm kinda curious to see how they mesh too... it'll take a while but I'm looking forward to the journey!_

_Rebecca Pierson - Firenze is hired (and Trelawny fired) just before the easter holidays so that's a while away yet._

_crazybibliophile - thanks so much, I dont know if angel will be in it (I still have to decide), if so they wont be a couple._

_invisible-gurl, enchantedlight, difficultone92, WHYBENORMAL93, Inveigler, JR, The Lady of the Land - thank you for your reviews and sorry for the wait :(_

_**Where We Belong**_

The students were sent off in groups to the bathrooms so that they could prepare for the day ahead, and as each group left the Great Hall that morning the bedding which they had used, lying upon the floor transfigured into tables and chairs ready for the coming meal. By 7am two thirds of the room had been transformed in this way and most of the students not yet washed and changed were preparing to leave.

Buffy's dormitory group started to make their way out of the hall, following a group of Slytherin fifth years and lead by the senior Ravenclaw Prefect, but as they were about to leave the Great Hall they were blocked by the lack of movement ahead.

She could see the open front doors, and hear the whispers of her peers, but Buffy could not make see over or through the tight crowd ahead to make out the people entering Hogwarts.

"Who are they?"

"Governors..."

"This must really be serious..."

"I wonder what..."

The constant low noise made it hard to make out any conversation in particular. Students whispering and guessing overlaid by the sound of movement ahead as those entering made their way towards the main staircase.

"Father!"

The word had come out as a startled, strangled gasp and the speaker's dismay at the volume of his exclamation was evident in his groan that followed. The sharp, purposeful footsteps which had been leading the group stopped sharply, causing those coming behind to clatter to a stop.

"Son." It was something between a statement, a warning and a demand, though it wasn't evident to most in the hall what was being demanded. Above the quiet rustling of students and murmurs of those who had been forced to stop in his wake, Buffy made out the sound of someone shuffling forwards and then the loud crack of wood on stone before... silence.

Or, well, silent to the degree that it could be in a large echoing space filled with teenagers. She could almost feel it, the spell encasing father and son so that their conversation could remain private. Similar to the one Hermione had used on Anthony in the library but stronger, composed of interweaved spells layered upon one another to prevent anyone making a gap in the weave without its creator knowing.

When the bubble broke with a hollow sound of the echo's that should have followed the initial impact of wood on stone, she felt a rush of energy as the remains of the broken spell flowed out from the pair, dissipating into the cool air of the entrance hall.

"-but you..." Draco cut off halfway through a heated response as he realised that his voice was once again echoing in the vast stairwell, no longer safely contained; masked within his father's magic. Not that it mattered. Mr Malfoy, having decided that the conversation was complete, had already resumed his path towards the stairs.

The students watched as he marched up the stairs, no doubt heading for Dumbledore's office followed by ten witches and wizards of assorted ages and, from the states of their robes, affluence. This was what Hermione had aimed for when she caused the houses to disband; the wizarding world taking note of what was happening at Hogwarts.

* * *

When Buffy entered the Great Hall for lunch, she was unsurprised to find that there was still no change to the seating. When faced with the ire of some of the most influential members of the British wizarding world, there was no chance that Umbridge would be able to do anything but defend her Decree. The woman's arrogant sense of purpose would prevent her from believing that her actions were anything but necessary and justified and, despite her attempts to prevent the current situation, she would no doubt stand by her actions before her peers. Buffy suspected the seating wouldn't change until there was some compromise reached where Umbridge felt she had still triumphed.

What was odd was the division of the students throughout the hall. Despite the lack of any definitive divide in the seating, they were arranged into groups not just of their friends but also surrounded by their housemates. The previous night had been a novelty, with students dotting themselves about in a muddle as they arrived, breakfast had been a bizarre staggered affair; some eating as others were sent to make themselves ready or to retrieve their work. Now was the first time the students had been given a chance to sit in the new arrangement as they liked, knowing what the arrangement was, and they had opted to sit in a pattern that mirrored where their house tables should have been.

Thinking back to her lessons, even then the separation of the houses had been more defined than usual. It had only usually been clearly split when the classes involved Slytherin and Gryffindor, otherwise the pupils tended to arrange themselves at random within their groups of friends but not apart from the house they were sharing lessons with. Without the usual certainty of their connection, the students seemed to be enforcing a physical unity to create the illusion that nothing had changed.

It's strange how easy something is to discount, to ignore until it's suddenly not there. The previous evening the hall had been thrumming with intrigue and excitement of change, of feeling that they were standing up to the Professor every student loathed. But now… now there was only the reality of their sudden lack of connection to one another.

The group mindset, feeling of togetherness which had been promoted by the House system had mainly been reflected by student's support of their Quiddich team or pride at a housemate's achievements winning points, but it was more than that. It was the people you knew better than they knew themselves, even if they weren't liked. It was eating together, sleeping together, and spending free time crammed within the same space. Shared jokes, triumphs and defeats. It was family.

Perhaps that was why, with this odd breakdown of the fragile connections between housemates, Buffy felt her distance from her peers so keenly, and more importance her disconnection with her family, her friends at home even stronger than usual. It wasn't something she had really integrated herself in, but the support network had been there… people to go to when in trouble, a shared purpose. She could see others grasping more forcefully onto friendships even as they surrounded themselves with the familiarity of their housemates.

Buffy hadn't thought about what being a Ravenclaw had meant to her since the school year had resumed and she'd been able to see how the house system really worked. At first it had been something she didn't feel she deserved, an assumption that she had been placed here by default. How could she be counted amongst those singled out for their intelligence? By the time she met her peers, they were just the people invading her space. The idea of house loyalty, of being a part of something came later.

Her initial image of the house had been a group of people with the same intense intelligence as Willow or Oz. She'd thought that a sense of a shared desire for learning would fill the common room with debate and discussion. But, although she hadn't integrated herself with them, she found that they were just teenagers. Perhaps with some added drive to succeed at their studies given by the assumption that they would excel, but nevertheless with all the predisposition to gossip and put off work that could be found in any group of school goers.

She'd never really thought about the oddity of the, generally accepted, smartest girl in their year being in Gryffindor not Ravenclaw. You would have thought she would have ended up where her brains would have been expected not leave her slightly apart. And on the other hand, within Ravenclaw there were some students who weren't academically brilliant; Anthony, with his fierce loyalty to anyone he decided to call a friend could have easily been a Hufflepuff.

But both seemed to have gained something from where they were placed. She had seen for herself how the work orientated attitude of some Ravenclaws spread out to the others, giving those who would have wasted away their time the urge to study and she had heard how the bravery of her fellow Gryffindors had changed Hermione's attitude.

More than just seeing it, she knew she had been affected by it. It was like when she arrived in Sunnydale where the change from being surrounded by cheerleaders to befriending Willow had meant she concentrated harder on her work. It had been impossible for her friend's work ethic to not affect her.

Perhaps it was like Cassandra had said, they were placed where they could best fulfil their potential, where they could feel accepted and be challenged. Either way the house units quickly became so fiercely bonded that it seemed even this couldn't destroy them.

Somehow she had been included in this, the outsider in her house due to the deliberate distance she put between herself and her peers and the age difference of her classmates, but still the Ravenclaw section waved her over when she stood too long thinking in the doorway. Without even realising it she had become a part of something, connected to these people and their world by more than shared abilities; by fragile ties of friendship and familiarity.

* * *

"Hi Buffy!"

She was disturbed from her food by the greeting and, looking back towards the Gryffindor section, she found the smiling face of a friend. She looked about for the rest of the Gryffindors that Neville usually spent his time with, but it seemed that they were at the other end of the hall, closer to the teachers and completely surrounded by other pupils. There didn't look like there were any seats left near Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Buffy smiled back at Neville, being second choice was enough. "How're you Neville?"

"I'm all right, looking forward to Herbology later – we're supposed to be studying Flaming Chervil today!" he was bobbing in his seat, unable to sit still with so much excitement bubbling within him.

Buffy smiled having already had the lesson on the plant the day before whose leaves were, as the name would suggest, a deep orange with flickers of yellow about the tip and an ingredient of, among other things, floo powder. The roots on the other hand were a pale creamy blue and, if harvested right, used in some potent cures for burns. It was an interesting plant to harvest, seemingly part of Professor Sprout's desire to confuse them with the complex plants they would be tested on in order to force the fifth years to work.

For once Neville seemed to have noticed that his excitement over his beloved subject wasn't entirely mirrored by her and didn't continue to speak about Herbology. Instead he looked about the room, pausing to glance wistfully at the end of the hall where his friends were seated.

"Isn't it amazing?"

"Huh?" Buffy asked around a mouthful, having gone back to her meal.

Neville gestured at the hall "This."

She followed his movements, once more observing how desperately the fractured houses were trying to be whole.

"Hermione made them all pay attention!" his voice filled with pride at the achievements of his friend. "She made sure they see what's actually happening, not what they're told is... it was even in the Prophet!"

"The Prophet?"

"The Daily Prophet, it's the newspaper... My Gran says the Minister's got them under his thumb, there's hardly been a word in it against the Ministry for months, since..." Neville looked about and lowered his voice "since You-Know-Who came back in the summer."

It was odd to hear someone talk about that like a fact. Whenever the story of the evil wizard's return to life had been mentioned to her it was usually as a joke or in disbelief, not mentioned as if it was a certainty.

"I mean... if the Prophet's saying the Decree was wrong then everyone'll pay attention. Maybe stop the Ministry interfering at Hogwarts. Maybe even sack her!" The last part was punctuated with a nod towards the teacher's table where Professor Umbridge, the High Inquisitor was sitting with a bitter smile firmly etched upon her face. Evidently determined not to give any indication that anything was wrong.

"How are we meant to pass DADA if she won't teach us any of the spells? If it wasn't for..." He stopped abruptly and turned back towards the Gryffindors seated behind him, his body angled so that she couldn't follow his line of vision, but she knew where he was looking; at the group at the far end of the hall.

When he returned to facing forwards in his seat his expression was more closed off than any she had seen, Buffy had become so used to Neville's open friendly manner that she had almost come to believe that he wouldn't know what it was to be secretive. He was silent for a while, pondering something in the locked off corners of his mind before finally a decision was made and his face transformed into one of resolve.

This was the reason he had been placed in a house that prized bravery; she could see fear and guilt flickering at the back of his eyes, but mostly they were filled with a fiery determination to follow through on the conclusion he had reached.

"You must be even further behind on DADA than us." He was carefully choosing his words.

Buffy shrugged, having already accepted that she was unlikely to pass a subject which most of her peers thought they were doomed to fail. Her knowledge of the theory behind the subject wasn't bad, having been forced to produce essays on many of the creatures they were required to know about for Professor Snape over the summer and she was slowly gaining some knowledge of the laws from her current lessons. That at least was something that Slinkhard couldn't alter to fit his bizarre world view, even if she did have to ignore the man's opinions about the legislation.

It was the practical aspect that she expected to fall down on. She could probably use her physical skills and strength to subdue any creatures but that might expose her unusual abilities, and she would have a problem with any spells they asked her to perform. Perhaps now she was beginning to get the hang of most of the charms and transfigurations she had learnt so far, but that had required allot of practice that she was unlikely to get for the defensive spells.

"That doesn't look likely to change while she's here... I doubt she even knows how to cast the spells" Buffy smirked "perhaps that's why she refuses to teach them."

Neville snorted at her comment then gestured her closer, a serious expression on his face. "I might be able to help... if you like?" the hope in his eyes was too endearingly innocent to refuse, his desire to give her something back in return for her saving him, for her friendship evident. He didn't seem to realise how much help he had already been to her in Herbology. That just having a friend was more than enough without the academic help he already provided.

She felt a pang of loss. It was oddly similar to Willow at the start of their friendship; the girl hadn't been able to comprehend that someone like Buffy might want her company for something other than just assistance with work. The shy girl had been constantly offering help; doing everything she could to aid Buffy due to the mistaken belief that without a reason to continue the acquaintance, she would ignore her newfound friend. In so many ways Neville was similar, so unsure of his own self-worth that he doubted anyone's desire to socialise with him.

"I'll have to ask..." he paused and twitched, resisting the urge to turn as that would give more away than he should. Despite how eager he was to aid his newfound friend, he was still bound by his loyalty to his classmates. "I'll let you know if it's okay. You still have Herbology after dinner on Friday right?"

Buffy smiled and nodded. "Thanks."

He smiled uncomfortably "I haven't done anything yet."

"Well, thanks for thinking of me even if it doesn't work out." This had something to do with the three Gryffindors around whom everything at the school seemed to orbit, and she had an inkling that it might be connected to whatever Anthony had tried to tell her. Before Hermione had stopped him. She sighed, knowing it was unlikely they would include her in this plan of theirs, even at Neville's request.

The clock sounded, its low toll echoing through the hall to indicate the end of their break for lunch, and everyone began to clear up their belongings and move towards the exit. Buffy shouldered her bag and waited for Neville to do the same before joining the queue at the doorway.

"Will you be coming by the greenhouses anyway on Friday? It would be nice to see you... either way."

That got her the largest, most carefree smile she had seen on the boy.

_**A/N:**- sorry if I mangled any of the characterisations... please let me know if so and I'll try to change it. I've done about 1/3 of the next chapter... but the earliest it might be posted is next week... if my crazy weekend doesnt keep me from writing. if it does... maybe longer. I'd also kinda like to re-read and repost some older chapters... which might take time. _

_oh and question... now that has these crossover categories should I change this to one of them... or would that just be confusing?  
_


	37. If It's Broken

_**A/N:**- sorry for the lengthy wait... crazy summer's made me busy and I've been desperately trying to improve the previous chapters and properly figure out all where I'm going. Continuing on that note... I'd really love it if someone out there would like to help me with this (and beta coming chapters...) I think I need someone to discuss this story with to seed things up. If any of you are interested, just let me know._

_Allen Pitt - I'm thrilled to see you review! as part of my 'getting back into this story'I've been reading all the reviews (and my garbled replies). seeing them all at once really drove home just how helpful your thoughtful reviews have been... there's barely any that didnt give me at least a little nudge towards a new idea/way of approaching an issue. Parents... now... I''m alot more certain of just how thats going to be found out... and it shall be fun (for me... and hopefully all who read this) but not for a bit (I keep saying that huh?). And yes... slowly it will emerge just how interconnected all their destinies are (I dont want Buffy to be a mary-sue... but it would be equally pointless for her to not be involved) well... anyway that is yet to come...  
_

_Getuie - I seem to be in a reflective mood at the moment... more action in the next chapter tho! I enjoy exploring characters motives too much to not go off on tangents at times... ah well._

_sparky24 - we'll just have to wait and see about DA huh? This is one thing I really hope goes how I plan... so often the characters mess my ideas up..._

_Carrebear14 - thank you!_

_anywhoo... I keep redoing bits of this over the last month (it was actually mostly written a while ago) and cant get it perfect.... so I've decided perfect is unobtainable. Here it is anyway. Oh and the next chapter is getting there... I'm busy the next two weeks but will hopefully get a chance to look at it after that.  
_

_**If it's Broken**_

Buffy entered the Great Hall for dinner to once more find the students milling about, unsure what to do. This time not because of altered seating arrangements, but because there were no seats left to take. The small tables which had littered the hall at lunch were gone, leaving only the teachers table left at the far end of the hall.

Most of the teachers were already present, seated at the table ahead with similar anticipation for what was doubtless to come as the students were, with a few notable exceptions. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Umbridge were all absent from their usual seats.

The crowd of teens slowly began to get more restless; minutes had passed since the last of the students arrived to find the barren hall, and tensions were beginning to rise. With no clear place to go they ended up grouped up together in front of the door, and the lack of houses did nothing to alleviate the animosity between various groups of students. Finally the door behind the teachers table opened and the missing professors emerged followed by the group of wizards and witches Buffy had seen that morning in the entrance hall.

Dumbledore moved in front of his seat before looking out at the eager faces in front of him "It seems the recent Educational Decree was never intended to affect the Houses or social interactions between students" he started in his ever amiable tone, leaving no way of telling his opinions on the words he was saying, especially as his phrasing carefully failed to attribute any to him personally. "It has therefore been repealed with immediate effect." with a careless wave of his hand as he sat, the banners which, until the previous evening had marked out the house tables reappeared high on the walls above the teachers table and began to unfurl. At the same time there began to appear, first as a faint shadow which slowly grew more solid, house tables.

Those students who had been standing in areas the tables usually occupied quickly moved away before they became too dense. The noise rose as students were pushed out of the way and then began to move towards their house tables to sit back where they belonged. There was a sense of relief on the air; worries that the house situation might not be resolved draining from the students.

A sharp rap of wood on wood quieted the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables who had failed to notice that the Slytherin table was silently watching the front of the hall where the blonde man, Draco's father, stood in front of the table waiting to address them.

"I have been asked to address you as spokesman for the Hogwarts School Governors. Due to the..." he paused disdainfully and glanced at Dumbledore "misinterpretation... of the recent Decree it was felt that we should deal with recent changes at the school."

"while it was agreed by..." he barely suppressed a sneer "all that the social activities of pupils should not be monitored," his voice made his disagreement evident, something he seemed to be making little effort to hide "however there have been ongoing concerns about the quality of teaching and decisions made regarding disciplinary action."

"As High Inquisitor on behalf of the Ministry, Professor Umbridge will continue to monitor lessons and observe the interaction between the Professors and Students of this institution. A majority vote of the Board of Governors has granted her their backing to act as she sees fit." as he finished he indicated towards his fellow board members. They all made some gesture verifying the truth of his statement, although some didn't seem as forceful in their agreement with Mr Malfoy, one wizard in particular required a pointed stare before he stiffly nodded.

"To this end, a new Educational Decree was proposed by the High Inquisitor and passed by the Minister with the support of…" he glanced towards his peers, a flash of anger crossing his previously serene and almost charming expression as he locked eyes with one who was defiantly glaring back. "most of the Board of Governors. Delores if you would" He half-bowed towards the woman in question as she moved to stand beside him at the front of the hall.

"Good evening."

So many of the students had the correct response to a greeting in that sickly voice drilled into them that the response was almost universal throughout the hall. "Good evening Professor Umbridge."

She smiled, enjoying the newly confirmed influence she held over all those at Hogwarts, students and teachers alike, and the smug edge to her grin made it obvious that her announcement would only further consolidate that power.

"I would like to announce the most recent Educational Decree." She muttered a spell and tapped the parchment in her hand causing it to rise up and expand so that all in the hall could read the words.

_**Educational Decree Number 25**_

_The High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions and removals of privileges as may have been placed by other staff members.  
_

It was evident from the faces of the staff that they hadn't been informed of the new Decree before that evening, something that severely undermined their power. Professor McGonagall seemed particularly shocked at what she had read, already in frantic conversation with the Headmaster but surprisingly enough the teacher who usually gave the most violent responses to any perceived slight showed no concern at the change. Professor Snape had barely looked at the sign, his only reaction a slight tightening of the jaw.

"As you can see, this Decree is impossible to misinterpret." Her gaze flitted over to the Gryffindor section where the girl who had caused all her troubles was seated.

"Well, now that that's over I think we should get back to matters at hand, don't you?" Dumbledore asked in his ever jovial manner, speaking during the pointed pause before Umbridge could take a breath to continue, and seemingly unaffected by the announcement. At his words food appeared on all of the tables and the Professors began to help themselves to the dishes in front of them. Realising that she had lost her audience, Professor Umbridge decided to step down gracefully and, giving Dumbledore one of her sickly smiles which always seemed more filled with hatred than the occasional glares of annoyance she was unable to hide, took her seat.

"Would any of you like to join us?" Dumbledore asked the governors still standing at the doorway, gesturing at the empty seats on the high table which must have been conjured at some point, though Buffy wasn't certain when. Their spokesperson quickly refused the offer, pompously stating that he had pressing business to attend, and it seemed that all would follow his lead until the one of the wizards who had seemed most disapproving of Mr Malfoy's speech, a large man who doubtless enjoyed his food, took a seat loudly proclaiming that "I'll never give up a chance to eat some of Hogwarts fine cuisine."

This seemed to give the others leave to do as they will and soon half a dozen of the Governors were sitting at the table conversing with the teachers, while the others politely made their excuses and left through the main doors into the entrance hall.

"Well that changed allot" Padma mumbled sarcastically as she began to take food from the platters which had appeared in front of them.

"At least she can't get rid of our clubs if she decides she doesn't like us" a girl Buffy wasn't sure the name of responded. From conversations the previous week, Buffy had gathered that she was in the Charms Club, and had got quite worried when it took so long to be reinstated.

"Yeah but that wouldn't stop her banning you from attending; she has 'supreme authority over all punishments' remember."

"Yeah... I guess." the brief optimism showed by the girl quickly disappeared and most of the students concentrated on their food, still mulling over what had been said that evening.

* * *

With all the thoughts of family bought up by the dissolution of the houses, it wasn't surprising that lying in her own bed again after returning to her room that evening, her thoughts were of home. Of the people that had become a closer family to her than most linked by blood could hope to be.

She reached for the bottom of her trunk where a small box filled with parchment lay hidden beneath her clothing. It was stuffed with letters she would never send. While she knew she could trust them with a secret, she couldn't risk the trouble that would result if wizards found out they knew, couldn't be sure they wouldn't let their fierce loyalty demand they come and help her. That they wouldn't inadvertently reveal everything.

The ability to write as if she was talking to then, even if she knew the letter would never be sent, reduced her sense of loss somehow, allowing her to imagine their responses and smile. There were words written to Willow, Xander and Giles relating how different things were here, the excitement of being magical, the fear of her power within. But there were none to her Mom. She had tried, oh so many times to put pen to paper in again, to tell Joyce that she was safe and cared for. That all was well.

While she found it almost refreshing to write to her friends that had helped her so much with her calling, using the words to sort through what was happening and their imagined responses prompting her to act in ways she might not have thought of without this way to analyse events. Writing to her adoptive mother was different. She had meant so much to her for so long, had done so much for Buffy, not merely taking her in and loving her but truly being her friend for most of her life.

Until Buffy had been called.

Thinking about Joyce made her angry; furious at all the things that had come between them, not just the recent events which had put an ocean between them, but all the secrets that had built up since she had been called. Slowly becoming bigger secrets that corrupted not just her childhood but also her family, tearing her parents apart.

How could she write to her when even the action itself was a lie? The letter never really intended to be sent.

Once they'd had a relationship untainted by deceit, her adoption had never been kept from her, the mother and child with a bond far more like a friendship. She hated that all these things had torn her apart. All apparently due to something in her blood, that inescapable connection to her biological parents which kept invading her life and changing it for the worse. They were the reason she was here, obviously magical enough to be a part of the wizarding world. More than that something passed on from her birth mother had given her the potential to become that thing which had destroyed her life.

Buffy shut the box with a loud crack, earning her groans of annoyance from the nearby beds, she had meant to use these frail connections to home to alleviate her loneliness but this time that refused to work.

Xander and Willow had once joked about adoption, before they knew about her, laughingly claiming that their parents barely cared enough about them to count. It was ironic that out of three sets of parents, the only one who acted like she truly cared, the one who worried about her child being out late at night, fretted over homework, the one who did all the things parents should had no genetic connection to her child. Her real parents had taken the ambivalence of Willow and Xanders' a step further, caring so little about their child they left a screaming newborn alone to face the elements. Not that her friends knew that part of the story.

She had never told her friends about what she found out over that summer. Another secret. It had been so long since there was someone she could speak to anyone without having to remember what she was keeping from them.

Buffy almost wished that she had never sought out information on her adoption, something that hadn't helped at all in her disillusioned sense of self after she defeated the Master, after she died. All finding out had done was deliver a shattering blow to the faint childish belief that perhaps she had been wanted, that something had forced her birth mother to let her go, and solidified the wall which had slowly grown between mother and daughter since her calling.

More than that, at least without the key and birth certificate, without the knowledge of her place of birth, she would have been able to stay in the same country as her family. But what good would that have done, she would still have been trapped in the midst of an odd community of magic users, unable to return home. She would have lost the chance to meet those she now tentatively called friends, and the opportunity to learn enough about her heritage to control it.

Even when her resentment of the people who had passed down these traits to her was at its highest she couldn't seem to forget them. Couldn't ignore the abilities which, despite their connection to her heritage, were still hers to manage. It was her decision either to allow these powers to run rampant and overcome her or to learn how to make them work for her.

Despite her growing disillusionment with her childhood hopes, she hadn't been able to give up on them, hadn't been able to abandon the idea of her parents as they had her. That was why she both despised and cherished the key, her only reminder, unable to understand the contradiction of what they had done and what they had left her with.

With her mind troubled by events both long and recently past, Buffy finally fell into a fitful sleep; strange dreams of terrible creatures and secret lives preventing any restful slumber.


	38. Beside Cleanliness

_**A/N**_**:- **_Sorry about the wait... real life has been a bit hectic. I've also been trying to go over the old chapters and sort them out which takes... longer than I thought it would. The plus side is I have a clearer idea than ever of where I'm going. I have (another - I need some free time) busy weekend coming up so will likely not be able to post in the next week... hopefully Ch 39 will be out in the first few weeks in Oct. _

_The events of this chapter (according to my timeline) occur on the 25th October, which happens to be my older sister's birthday... so this chapter is dedicated to her (hmm... I kinda wish it was a more interesting one... ah well)_

_Many thanks to my kind beta who looked this over and proclaimed it just about postworthy. As ever, I would love to know your thoughts on the matter.  
_

_Allen Pitt - lol as so often, you're spot on... and yes if I told ya all her surname you'd know all... or well most... some of it anyway ;) You're correct that she hasn't really done anything recently to make the trio suspicious - interested perhaps but nothing to indicate to them that she's evil. I guess the hint is that she could interract closer with them (I really had intended this to happen earlier initially but my idea of how Harry/Hermione/Ron would react to a foreign element just... well I couldnt really believe it would happen, and so instead this story did =D). As for the Mayor's Ascension and Ministry fight... they're not quite the same time... Don't worry tho, the links between the worlds are only going to get stronger._

_toastbox - um yes buffy (and I) have forgotten about it... partly because that letter was removed from the story in an edit I made about 2 years ago (on my master copy) which apparently I forgot to change here. Mainly for the reasons you said - the time since finding the letter was too long for me to believe that buffy wouldnt get curious and go read it. And well... I really like this other way I have of revealling that. It's all written and everything!  
_

_BerMH - unfortunately more questions will be raised before any are answered, but I hope to keep it interesting along the way._

_The-Living-Shadow - lol she does tend to meddle a bit... that can be useful at times tho._

_Carrebear14, Margaret, DABraning - thank you for your kind comments  
_

**_Beside Cleanliness_**

Buffy had often thought it was strange how quickly people could take things in their stride. Perhaps this was another version of the blindness shown in Sunnydale to bizarre occurrences, this denial that there was a need to worry, but both the students and teachers seemed somewhat unaffected by the changes brought about by the last few tumultuous days. Their lives may have been upside down for 24 hours, but apparently that was no reason to ignore the important things in life of which, as most of the students and even some of the teachers seemed to agree, Quidditch was definitely one.

The importance of the wizarding game was brought into sharp focus for Buffy that Friday. With just over a week to go before the first match of the season the whole school had suddenly become even more obsessed with the sport than previously, and the fact that the upcoming match was between two of the school_'_s fiercest rivals; Gryffindor and Slytherin, only heightened the anticipation.

Buffy was on her way to the Library, cutting through a corridor on the first floor which was rarely busy at this time as it came from the greenhouses. Today the route was only being taken by one other pair of students, the Ravenclaw Head Girl, Angela Delaney and another 7th year who were caught up in an animated discussion about their Herbology project.

The only warning any of them received was a slight creaking, a low groan of strained wood as something unused to movement was put into motion. That noise gave Buffy the seconds notice she needed before one of the heavy wooden cabinets lining the walls tipped then began to fall just as the older girls passed. Managing to catch it before it landed on the girls, Buffy held onto the unit as the items within toppled out onto them. It seemed that this was a place Filch used for storage as various cleaning products and implements emerged.

"Wow! How'd you…"

Realising that she shouldn't be able to support the entire weight alone, Buffy let it slip slightly in her grasp, mimicking strain on her features as she held on. This quickly silenced the girls underneath as they scrambled to get out of the way. Pulling out her wand, Angela quickly muttered a spell to take the weight of the object from Buffy and, with another word and a complicated flick of her wand, righted the cabinet.

What none of them had expected to hear as it thudded back into position against the wall was a yelp of pain and for it to wobble slightly on unstable ground before finally settling with a loud thump. A low moan came from just out of sight followed by a rustle of clothing and a grunt of "Quiet!"

She had a split second to react when a boy jumped out from where he had been hidden at the far end of the cabinet with his wand flailing. Buffy knocked his arm as he cast his spell, causing the magic to ricochet off the ceiling into one of the torches lighting the corridor, which burst into a fountain of purple and green sparks.

Disarmed by her unexpected blow, he stumbled back; eyes wide with surprise that soon turned to anger as he regrouped and resumed his assault. Without his wand he resorted to physical attacks; flailing with his fists in an uncoordinated manner in an attempt to beat Buffy back. She had often run into vampires who fought like this; all brawn and no brain, who thought that their superior strength should be enough to thwart any foe. Crabbe (or was it Goyle, the two had always seemed like interchangeable entities) had always been the largest in the year, able to easily bully his peers without any finesse.

That is why, when Snape came down the staircase from the second floor to find the group, he found one of the two largest Slytherins restrained on the floor by a petite Ravenclaw while the other limped forward, wand poised to help his friend.

"What _do_ you think you're doing Vincent Crabbe?" Snape whispered through gritted teeth his eyes holding those of the boy until he slowly lowered his wand.

"Twenty Points from Slytherin." Announced Angela coming forward to help Buffy as she disentangled herself from the boy on the floor who stood up, rubbing the shoulder of the arm she had locked behind his back.

"What for precisely?" He asked, a dangerous note in his voice.

"Attacking other students."

At her response, Snape raised one eyebrow "Why is it that Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle seem to be the only students injured in this attack you claim they perpetrated?"

"Well he hurt his foot when we put back the cabinet they tried to push onto us" the other 7th year piped up, pointing at Crabbe who had now hidden away his wand and was attempting to look as innocent as possible, mostly it came across as confused. "and _he _might have got a bit bruised when this girl stopped him from attacking her."

"Is that so" Snape drawled

Angela, having used the time to retrieve the fallen wand muttered "_Prior incantato._" causing Goyle's frantic voice to come out of the wand "C_onfundo!_"

He took a moment to contain the anger at his pupils which welled up "All that proves is that my students were practicing DADA during their lunch break."

"And that explains the spluttery purple torch _how_?" Buffy asked, indicating the flame which the spell had hit. The mournful looking blaze was flickering half heartedly, and still producing purple and green sparks at sporadic intervals. "Of course, if you think it's unfair, you could always speak to the High Inquisitor about altering the punishment."

"Detention." Snape snapped, glaring into Buffy's eyes before rounding on the Slytherin boys "_Both_ of you." Even if he was going to have to let the girls get off scot-free, he would at least get to take out his ire on someone. The suggestion that he might have to apply to Professor Umbridge to get the points back had annoyed him more than Buffy had anticipated, she got the feeling her next potions lesson wasn't going to be fun.

"I suggest you make your way to my classroom immediately." Snape growled at the pair "If you are not seated when I arrive, I will be forced to take even more points from our house."Terrified by their Head of House's mood, the two Slytherins rushed off each producing slight gasps of pain as they attempted to run despite their injuries. They were understandably unwilling to anger him any further. If Snape was already annoyed enough to consider taking points from the house he lead, something so rare none of those gathered couldn't remember another occurrence, nothing was going to make them risk angering him further.

He paused for a moment, glaring down his hooked nose at the three girls before taking a step to follow the boys, slipping and almost falling when his foot landed on one of the cleaning cloths that littered the passageway. The tall, usually poised man looking slightly ridiculous as he regained his balance. He turned back, daring them to say anything, to make the slightest acknowledgement of their amusement and almost looked disappointed when they failed to give him any reason to berate them. When he reached the other side of the mess he barked an order to "Clear up this clutter" before striding along the corridor.

"Wow, I'm surprised Snape let that go so quickly." Angela whispered when the Professor had swept out of sight.

"I doubt he wanted too much fuss made about the Slytherin Bludgers trying to crush a Gryffindor Chaser. Those two are as dumb as their bats, but they do know how to hit hard and Snape wouldn't risk them not being able to play." The other 7th year that, as she had said, sported the Gryffindor colours looked down at the items on the floor scrunching her nose. "I never was that good at cleaning spells" she muttered before waving her wand in a haphazard manner.

The debris littering the floor jumped up towards the cabinet, unfortunately all attempting to place itself in a single cupboard. Angela waved her own wand and corrected the spell sending all the bits of cleaning apparatus back into their appropriate storing places.

"Sorry, I would have given you points for what you did, but Snape would have just tried even harder to justify taking some from us." Angela said as the three girls looked about at the passage that showed no sign of the earlier excitement.

The Gryffindor girl started to chuckle quietly, drawing the attention of the other girls. "Sorry. I just couldn't help but think of the look on Goyle's face when you blocked his fist."

"He did look pretty bewildered." Angela agreed beginning to smile along with her friend.

"Bewildered? He looked as if he'd found his stocking empty at Christmas." The idea of the boy being festive tipped all three into laughter, releasing the tension caused by their recent shocks with a outpouring of mirth disproportionate to the words.

The Gryffindor girl collected herself as the laughter began to ease, and looked speculatively at Buffy. "How did you beat him anyway?"

"I've studied martial arts a bit." She shrugged "It's easy to use someone's size and strength against them if you know how." Buffy explained, relieved that out of the encounter it was this that they seemed to be focussed on. "Especially if they don't know what they're doing." Which Goyle definitely hadn't; something that was almost surprising considering the pride the pair of Slytherins seemed to take in their intimidating physical stature.

She nodded thoughtfully "Wizards look down on the use of physical violence so, coming from a pure blood family; he wouldn't have learnt any combat techniques."

Angela caught the look of disbelief on Buffy's face at the idea that those boys had in any way been discouraged from violence by their upbringing.

"Those two have always reacted physically, it's true, and it's accepted… to a point… in children. But adults are expected to settle their differences with magic. To resort to fists, that would be seen as juvenile; evidence that you were unable to defend yourself magically, muggle-like even." Angela paused thoughtfully "That's possibly why there's such a taboo surrounding it; when wizards hid themselves from muggles they wanted to distance themselves from the sort of fighting that had so diminished our numbers…"

At that moment the clock began to strike out the hour, indicating the start of lessons, and interrupting Angela's train of thought.

"We should get to Charms." She shouldered her bag as her friend did the same "Let me know if you get in trouble for being late Buffy, and I'll explain to your Professor."

They were gone before Buffy could let Angela know that she had a free period, and therefore wouldn't have any repercussions for her tardiness. Continuing along her path to the Library, Buffy resolved to attempt her Potions work first. She had a feeling even a perfect essay wouldn't be good enough to keep her out of trouble the next time she was in a classroom with Professor Snape, but she didn't want to give him an easy target.

* * *

Buffy had been disappointed not to find Neville discussing some obscure plant with Professor Sprout in the Greenhouse when she arrived for her evening lesson, over the month that she had known the boy it had become almost routine. Instead the Professor passed on the boy's regrets that he hadn't been able to stay that evening_,_ before jumping into a lesson about how to tap the bonsai trees she had grown so as to extract the sap.

The scent of the sap they were gathering kept niggling Buffy, she knew she recognised it from somewhere but it wasn't until nearly the end of their allotted time that the reason came to her. It had been an ingredient in the spells Giles had used to counteract the magic used against the cheerleading squad in her first few weeks at Sunnydale High she remembered the aroma as he had added it to his potion. It had been the final ingredient and even as she fought off the angry witch, the scent had filled the air.

Mentioning to her Professor the muggle 'beliefs' in plants powers soon lead to a discussion on the various forms of magic. She had never really stopped to think about the difference between the magic she had seen as a Slayer on the Hellmouth and that used in the wizarding world, but Sprout's interest was understandable since the raw ingredients involved often seemed to be the only connection. One used internal power focussed through a wand while the other was all about ritual and borrowed power.

This ended up making Buffy very late leaving to make her way up through the school, on the edge of curfew when any students wandering the corridors would be severely reprimanded. She was planning to return, not to the Ravenclaw dormitories but to Rowena's study where she could release some of the energy which had built up over the week. The dissolution of the houses may have been forgotten by most, but it had impeded her ability to escape to the secret room, as her growing restlessness reminded her, and her run in with the Slytherins earlier hadn't helped.

When she heard the muted chatter of students walking towards her she looked about in a panic. If she ran into the prefects patrolling the school they would escort her back to her common room, leaving her no chance to release her tension. Worse still, she knew that Draco was a prefect, and it was unlikely that any interaction with him would be favourable after foiling Crabbe and Goyle's attack. She might have been able to defend herself if he attempted any revenge, but without any witnesses she would likely end up with all the blame.

As their footsteps moved closer, Buffy spotted a door which her hazy memory informed her opened into a cupboard and jumped inside, hastily grabbing the handle of a mop that threatened to clatter noisily to the floor. She managed to pull the door to just as a pair of students she recognised from her fifth year classes with Hufflepuff rounded the corner.

"What do you think she'll do now?" the boy's voice echoed in the empty corridor.

"With the Decree being repealed?" the girl asked.

"Yeah, I mean, it was obviously aimed at us; appearing a few days after Hogsmeade." With the longer phrase, Buffy was able to combine the glimpse she'd had as the pair rounded the corner and the voice with a name: Justin. It was the boy that had spoken up during their first DADA lesson. He, out of all the Hufflepuffs seemed to love the sound of his own voice most, making it easier to place him by sound alone.

"She'll have to be careful now… ministry involvement at Hogwarts is something people are watching for now."

"Not that it'll change anything, look at the new authority they gave her even after…" Justin grumbled.

"Did you see the Govenors though? Not all of them were happy with that." Seemingly unimpressed by her interruption, no doubt when he had been poised for a rant about his opinions on the matter, Justin merely grunted in response to the girl's comment. "At least now we're not doing anything wrong; even if she finds out she can't stop us."

"I'm pretty sure she'd find a way…" They turned the corner at the far end of the corridor and the sound of their voices cut out, which all in all was probably a good thing; from the sound of it, Justin had regained control of the conversation.

Buffy sifted through what she had overheard; the decree had been aimed at them? Why would... then it clicked; the mention of Hogsmeade, the awkward conversation with Anthony which had been left incomplete after Hermione's interruption. She thought about the recent absences of Anthony and Padma from the groups of 5th year Ravenclaws studying in the common room after dinner, of Neville's offer of help with DADA. Of Justin's worries when the lack of practical practice in lessons had been announced.

They had started some sort of club to learn DA themselves. Since Umbridge was deliberately preventing them from learning anything useful. Even with only the instruction she had received from Snape over the summer to compare it to, Buffy could tell that their current lessons were inadequate. Somehow Umbridge must have found out about their club and tried to stop it with the decree... which Hermione had caused to be repealed.

For the sake of the members that she counted as tentative friends, Buffy hoped they continued to be secretive. They might not be breaking any laws but she got the feeling that the Inquisitor would do more than stop them should Umbridge uncover whatever proof she had been lacking when the decree was in place.

* * *

In a secret room on the other side of the castle, Harry Potter intently watched as a dot moving over his map made it's way into the Ravenclaw tower, safely back for the night. He was completely unaware that he had just missed a near collision between two of his students and another wayward pupil. An interaction that had revealed more than he could possibly imagine. But Harry's attention was firmly on the dot labelled 'Cho Chang' as it wound up the stairs within the Ravenclaw tower to the sixth year dormitory.

The flicker at the edge of the area containing the Ravenclaw tower wouldn't have been caught by most, but Harry's sharp sight, necessary for any seeker was almost legendary. In his case, the acclaim was justified, but by the time he had noticed the dot it was already too late; it had disappeared into the blank area outside the solid line marking the outer wall of the castle.

Harry blinked, taking off his glasses and rubbing exhausted eyes before refocusing on the map, seeing an empty space where he had been certain for a moment that he had spotted one of the dots that indicated a person. It was definitely too late if he was imagining things. It had been a tiring day; and the long session practicing jinxs had been the last straw, he needed sleep.

Seeking out the two Hufflepuffs just arriving at their common room he felt some of the tension leave him; they had all safely returned. He skimmed over the simplest path to the Gryffindor common room, checking that the way was clear for him and his friends before closing the map and leaving the magical room empty once more, waiting patiently for the next time it is required.

* * *

Buffy approached the portrait which lead to the hidden training room, adrenaline already thrumming through her veins. She had been on a low state of alert since her encounter with the two Slytherins earlier and all she wanted to do now was expend some of that energy. Without any preamble, she tripped the lock and opened the door.


	39. Friends and Foes

**_A/N:_**_- Real life, as usual, delays me. Also, bizarrely, the section I was most looking forward to writing in this didn't want to come... Many thanks to my beta __for looking over this with her sharp eyes. For the first time in... well the duration of my writing this fic - I am actually ahead of my posts - the next two chapters are all but done and I'm halfway through Ch 42! This should mean you'll get a few steady updates over the upcoming weeks._

_Allen Pitt - Yes, with the letter there I just couldn't justify her not reading it. The weird thing is, I hadn't actually thought about her asking the goblins (perhaps she could be a similarly ditsy blonde an not consider it)... I'm glad the section from Harrys POV seems to have worked - the question of the potential discovery of the room needed to be addressed... and the connections, they will come._

_toastbox - I'm being kinda slow about the big revelation of her parentage... but I think the way it happens will be fun. Thank you for letting me know you're enjoying it._

_StoryTagger - Yes, Buffy is in some way related to Rowena, she is not however necessarily a direct descendant - the mutual relative could have existed generations before Rowena was born making them oh so distant cousins. I've always thought that Rowena was childless for some reason (and since this is only using cannon up to OotP... I might stick to that). On Harry being a bit of an ass... well, He's a 15 year old... what do you expect? I know I for one wasn't particularly reasonable at that age, and with the whole wizarding world treating him like he's either desperate for fame or insane, he's understandably tense. I thought it made sense for him to be wary of anything new._

_Saphira7 - I will try to continue updating at a steady, if slow, pace. And eventually.... everything will be revealed._

_Thenchick - the golden trio aren't being nice... but they have reason to be suspicious and generally seem to get over themselves eventually._

_Nicholas - Thank you! at present I am concentrating on KttP but don't worry, I haven't forgotten about chosen. Oh and never worry about correcting my spelling (or grammar), I know it is needed. 'realise' and 'practise' are simply the english way of writing - in english, practice is the noun and practise the verb whereas in american english practice is used for both. As a rule in english we generally use 'ise' not 'ize' although both are acceptable - as with everything in english there are exceptions where you should always use one or the other - other than these, I only ever use 'ize' in Americanize... since I might as well do it when I write it. I really hope my recent revision of the story caught layer (I'm kinda embarassed by that - this will be updated over the next month). I'm glad my centre/center's are right,although with you mentioning it I might just have to go and check they really are. My similar pet peeve is the distinction between they're/their/there... so often confused._

_Tentrees - I'm keen on noone being super anything (it's actually caused me some headaches in my other story). I like to think that, without playing second fiddle to Buffy and getting Giles and Joyce's full attention Faith would have mellowed a bit. I'm not trying to say she'd turn into a Buffy clone but I think it would help her work past some of her angst. Willow and magic... now I'm still undecided on this... when I diverged from cannon the only spell she had performed was the soul renewal - and that looked a lot like possession. I realise her magic is pretty central to her character in later seasons, but I'm not sure if I will be following cannon in this case. I'm still not fully decided (it pretty much depends on whether I come up with some fun idea involving her)._

_General Mac, enchantedlight - thanks! sorry for the wait, the chapters are coming as fast as I can..._

_**Friends and Foes**_

The week already felt longer than most, and it was only half way through. Exhaustion was beginning to seep in and Buffy glad that no-one expected her to be paying attention to the conversation as the fifth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs made their way from the Transfiguration classroom down to the Great Hall for dinner. Glancing out a north facing window, she unintentionally paused, unable to completely resist the pull of the forest; it drew her in, even now when she was too drained to think let alone fight.

The light banter of her peers paused as the group noticed that Buffy had fallen behind, looking wistfully through the glass. Laughing off their concerns seemed to mostly work, although Anthony had continued to shoot her worried looks until the topic of conversation turned from the Halloween Feast to Quidditch. While the 31st of October was apparently celebrated as much by wizards and wizards as it was by muggles, if in a differing manner, nothing could hold her peers attention as well as the wizarding game. The complaints of both houses at their inability to get time on the pitch due to the upcoming match between Slytherin and Gryffindor soon meandered into a playful discussion about the various houses' chances to win the cup.

For once, she was glad at the boy's endless capacity for discussing flying, brooms and anything Quidditch related, as it allowed her to eat relatively uninterrupted. Giving the opportunity for her thoughts to wander back to something she could never quite forget: the creatures in those woods, whose presence often sparked her supernatural senses. They were never really out of mind, even when the sight of them was blocked.

Since Buffy now had the statue to train her, the need to go into the forest to merely expend some energy was gone. All she had to do was make her way up to Rowena's study and challenge Camilla in order to satisfy her urge to be active. Though using up her excess energy sparring with the statue made the urges easier to ignore, it didn't satisfy all the slayer's needs, didn't completely quell the cravings which pulled her to the forest, especially with a near-full moon rising behind the dark trees.

She had spent the first month and a half of the term constantly fighting the slow build of energy. Even with the access to the secret stairwell she hadn't risked making the trip across the open grounds too often. Now Buffy finally had another means of releasing these tensions, with far more limited chances of detection; hidden up within the school, using up all the superhuman stamina her calling gave to keep going through Camilla's often gruelling training sessions.

This was why it was only now, once she no longer had the extra magical boost provided by her unused slayer powers that Buffy was beginning to understand why her peers were so worn out after an intensive day of casting.

'_Magic comes from within.'_

Her teachers had often told Buffy that when she'd first arrived at Hogwarts; her wand used to focus the power within so that she could use it to manipulate her surroundings. She had understood this, felt the surge of energy as a spell drew the forces needed out of her through the fingertips touching her wand. What Buffy hadn't recognised was that this power used could be missed. That like the energy needed to fight, to run; it was expendable and required time to recharge.

The last two days had been full of practical spellcasting. The previous evening of transfiguration with the forth years followed by her extra charms lesson after dinner hadn't had much of an effect, but after a long session with Camilla Buffy had instantly fallen into a deep sleep. Despite sleeping longer than usual, she had already felt drained before her first lesson, where Flitwick had them practicing colour change charms. Ending the day on yet another practical class had taken her last vestiges of energy.

Looking up from her empty plate she glanced warily about at her peers, would they notice if she took another helping to help feed her slayer metabolism? Used to her silences, the other students were mostly caught up in conversations of their own or in eating their own food, hopefully too engrossed in their activities to notice that her appetite was disproportionate to her size.

As Buffy reached across the table for a dish something made her look up the hall towards the teacher's table. She paused, caught in the intense black stare of the Potions Professor. His interest in her had been replenished by the events in the corridor the previous week, no doubt informed by Crabbe and Goyle of her feats of strength and skill in fighting. Snape smirked at her, pleased at her reaction to him and broke eye contact for a moment to glance down at her half-full plate before meeting her gaze with a raised eyebrow.

Buffy jumped back in her seat then silently cursed, why couldn't she be hungry? Acting jittery about it only confirmed that there was something to be interested in. Preventing the annoyance she felt from reaching her face in a scowl, she instead schooled her features into a tight smile and took a small portion from the dish, raising her fork in a salute to her Professor before returning her attention to her dinner.

She had expected the flash of annoyance at her insolence, and so had not anticipated the predatory smirk to return to Snape's face. Then, just as she took a sip of her juice, she realised why the man was so pleased and choked slightly on the liquid. Glancing back at him she found that the smirk had widened into a crocodile grin, a satisfied smile displaying rows of teeth. Tonight was her evening potions lesson; he would have her cornered in the dungeon for the next hour.

No wonder her potions lessons earlier in the week had been painless, or at least not much worse than usual, despite the ever curious glare. All Snape had to do was wait until today when he would be able to question her without the interruption of other students.

Snape's satisfied grin had only gotten larger throughout the lesson, although Buffy wasn't certain why; he had made no attempt to question her about her strength or fighting skills. The limited discussions so far had been entirely about her returned essay and the potion he had decided she would brew that evening, the benign nature of their interactions was slowly setting Buffy on edge, her every sense telling her that something was coming.

* * *

He waited until the lesson was mostly over before the questioning began. She had felt his mind testing her throughout the session, flitting over her thoughts and then retreating, no doubt sensing her diminishing reserves of energy.

"Where did you learn to fight?" Buffy managed to suppress any sign of her shock at the abrupt question, focussing instead on the cauldron in front of her. She had finally completed adding the ingredients and only needed to ensure that the light bubbling of the viscous liquid didn't rise from a simmer to a boil, waiting patiently for the active agents to fuse and produce a change in colour that would indicate her success.

"There was a lot of gang-related crime in Sunnydale, the school encouraged us to learn some self defence."

"Gangs?" he drawled sarcastically. Buffy knew from Lupin that wizards had some understanding of the nature of Sunnydale, and a man as intrigued by the dark arts as Snape was couldn't fail to interpret the type of 'gangs' that frequented the town correctly. "Was that how you got your bite?"

His finger trailed over her shoulder, perfectly outlining her scar where it lay hidden beneath Buffy's robes. She knew for a fact that he had only seen it once, that morning in the Great Hall after her first trip to the forest. For the first time Buffy really feared his interest in her; if he was that observant, had that good a memory, what else did he know, how long would it be before he to found that final piece which makes the whole puzzle fall into place. The flicker of something on the edge of her thoughts reminded her to be careful, to be truthful.

"I don't really remember getting it" her hand unconsciously went up to touch the place on her shoulder where his had had just been. What she had said was true; she _knew_ what had happened, that the Master had bitten into her shoulder and drunk from her, she could even vaguely remember what he said after the haze over her thoughts began to dissipate. It had been something about him needing her, her blood, her power; that without her he couldn't have escaped. But she couldn't remember the event itself, had no memory of teeth sinking into flesh or her blood flowing out into his mouth; the Master's control over her thoughts had been too strong.

She felt a hint of anger, originating from that pressure on her thoughts. Buffy was sure he could sense the truth in her words, but Snape was also clever enough to easily distinguish evasive answers, even without his presence in her mind.

"You mentioned an angry… canine." He prompted, increasing the invasion in to her mind. In her weakened state easily stealing past barriers she had long kept strong, walls that hid certain memories from everyone, even herself.

_She could feel the water all about her, knew somewhere in her mind that she should be trying to get out, that she shouldn't breath in the grimy water. But her thoughts were so slow and her body wouldn't react to them, and all she could focus on was a point on her shoulder where her blood continued to flow out through a jagged wound._

Carefully using what was left of her energy she rebuilt the fractured cells that contained some of her worst experiences. Focussing back on the cauldron in front of her she noted the speed at which bubbles were rising to the surface with a frown. Her emotions had fuelled the magical flame, turning it into a blaze that was quickly overheating her potion. Buffy drew back her power from the fire, waiting until her concoction was safe before responding. "I was unconscious when my friends found me, and it looks like a dog bite."

"What happened when you reported the attack?"

She shrugged "Like I said, there was a lot of crime in Sunnydale, no one worried much about one girl."

Buffy could still feel his emotions emanating from that point where his consciousness entered her thoughts but now the ever present anger and distrust was overlaid with confusion. Snape had felt the truth in her replies, it was understandable that muggles might believe a vampire's bite was caused by an animal, but something still didn't sit right.

A muggle couldn't detect the invasion of their thoughts by a leglimens, most wizards couldn't, yet she could somehow feel a touch so delicate that it was an effort to maintain.

"Dumbledore believes we should trust you."

That made Buffy look up to meet his eyes, she hadn't expected him to be so direct. "And you, what do you think?"

"I believe another unknown at a time like this is more than a coincidence. I think it is dangerous to ignore what you do not understand."

"I'm not involved in it, this wizard war you're all hiding from." Buffy shrugged off his shock at her candid words "It's not like you have to listen hard or read much to know what's going on."

"No, you do not." He mused breaking their eye contact to look at the potion which had changed from a bright red to a now deepening blue. Snape smirked as she hurriedly decanted a portion of the mixture into a vial for testing before it changed too far. "And you are wrong, everyone is involved."

Buffy glanced at the clock, the lesson was over. She collected her books and handed Snape the vial, half-expecting him to hold her up in some way, but he was lost in his own dark thoughts, no longer worried about her part in the impending conflict.

* * *

From the moment Buffy stepped beneath the boughs of the forest, she could feel that something had changed. That there had been a shift in the careful balance which existed between the established denizens; causing everything to be on high alert. The often sleepy atmosphere was rife with life and activity as all the creatures waited to see what effects this change would bring about.

Whatever was different; she knew it had to be something big. Buffy still occasionally found groups of vampires nearby, drawn there by some intangible force, but these additions had done nothing to phase the native wildlife. This was more than that; this had shifted the balance of power, the magic which was such an integral part of the forest.

Buffy stilled; trying to use her senses to find what it was that had bought about this restlessness. But all the forest was awake and scared, using whatever magic or mysticism they had to try and gain some sense of safety, making it impossible to distinguish the newcomer. As she was about to give up, Buffy heard a noise that was definitely out of place; the resounding groan of wood under stress, increasing in volume as the strain grew and accompanied by muted snaps as the wood began to splinter. The sound stopped abruptly, culminating in a final crack of a bough giving way.

She ran towards the noise without thinking that perhaps she should be wary of something that scared even the things living in a place like this. As Buffy drew closer, she began to make out other sounds besides those being made by the tortured trees. Loud grunts and bellows overwhelmed the sounds of splitting wood, and should have been audible further away. Somehow the trees had absorbed the noises made by their tormentor while allowing the evidence of their pain to ring clear. It was this odd muting of the voice which should have echoed through the wood which caused Buffy to run out into the clearing.

The thing trapped there was facing away from her when she skidded to a stop, the ground changing suddenly from hard compacted earth to muddy churned up soil that seemed as tortured as the surrounding trees. In that moment, Buffy berated herself later, she could have left, probably should have left. If she had turned about directly, if she hadn't hesitated, but the creature in front of her was too much to grasp in a mere moment and by the time she had fully absorbed the sight, it had seen her.

For such a large creature it moved surprisingly fast, and Buffy only just escaped his initial grasp only to find that her retreat was blocked as the uprooted saplings lying on the ground were hurled at her escape route. Dodging closer to avoid the gigantic spears she picked up a branch of her own, a giant version of the stakes she was used to carrying; finishing at a jagged point where the foliage had been snapped off. It lunged for her again, howling in pain when her makeshift weapon scratched a gash along the creature's hand.

Buffy dropped the branch, unable to support the weight with her whole right arm gone numb after the impact. She had somehow managed to hold onto the crude spear as the point bit into thick skin but the force had been devastating; in injuring the beast she had hurt herself far worse. With Buffy distracted, it was finally successful; a huge fist caught onto her deadened arm with a vice like grip and began to drag her closer.

She twisted, unable to escape his grasp but only succeeding in making his grip tighter; the bones in her forearm began to give under the pressure. With her left hand, Buffy reached behind her for the stake hidden in her waistband and, painfully pulling herself closer to the restraining hand with her injured right arm, she stabbed deep into the giant's flesh. The action was successful in that it caused the beast to release her arm; unfortunately it only did this as it was flinching back away from the pain; sending Buffy flying across the clearing.

Struggling to her feet, primarily standing on her right leg as her left had yet to regain feeling, Buffy assessed her injuries as she took in her new location; searching for a point of escape. Unfortunately her opponent, unhappy with being scratched and stabbed, wasn't about to give her the moments respite she required. The huge tree she had slammed into the trunk of groaned slightly with the easing of tension as the giant moved towards them.

The noise made Buffy take another look at the mud-sodden tendrils hanging off the creature. They were not vines left over from the destruction it had wrought on the forest but thick ropes, one for each limb tied to four ancient trees which towered over the area. She took a step forward to escape from the area this beast was trapped in before it reached her again but as she moved away from the tree her left leg buckled underneath her.

Her focus had been on the enemy ahead, so Buffy hadn't taken note of the sharp pain in her leg as the shock of the impact retreated. It had felt like just one more injury on top of the many now covering her aching body. She knew her back was bruised and scratched; her clothes hanging off her where they had been ripped by the force of the blow and her right arm was now hanging limply by her side, wrenched out of its socket. The leg she had thought to be numbed by the collision was in fact pierced through by a thin branch, part of the remains of smaller trees that littered the area, and her attempt to walk had moved the limb enough to reawaken the nerves.

The giant jolted to a stop an arm's reach from Buffy, reaching the end of the rope from the far side of the clearing. Buffy managed to roll away from his grab at her, crying out in agony as the stick protruding from her leg was twisted by the movement before finally snapping off closer to her skin. The wrenching pain as her leg muscle tore would have prevented her from escaping the second time but she had managed to move just beyond his grasp. The huge creature made one final attempt to get her, straining against ropes which bound him to trees so tall they even towered over him, but the ancient trunks refused to give.

Later Buffy wouldn't remember how she managed to drag herself further out of his reach, beyond the edge of the clearing to where she finally collapsed in a heap. Her memory was only of profound relief when the creature gave up and lumbered away to nurse his own wounds and of the blinding pain as she somehow stood and limped away, cradling her dislocated arm.


	40. What Doesn't Kill You

_**A/N**__- Merry Christmas one and all! I intened to have this posted yesterday as it was on TTH - unfortunately I haven't found the time to sort out review replies so it wasn't. I hope to update this chapter with these in the next few days... Apologies._

_Allen Pitt - well many of these questions are answered in the following and you are as usual a few steps ahead of me. I kinda like Snape. He's odd like the trio in the constant suspicion, they both refuse to believe that their perceptions of people could be wrong... or that people can change.  
_

_General Mac - well... I've got to keep it interesting..._

_toastbox - saved by snape... why is it that no one's ever grateful for that? great idea._

_Thenchick - well we'll see what happens when she has more interactions with them - Buffy hasn't really had much of a cause to speak to them yet. Her limited conversations have been less than friendly, but they had some reasons for that..._

_dreameralways - regarding her family... well you can't expect me to ruin the surprise can you? On her lack of defence training... Neville has kinda offered to help we'll have to see what comes of that._

_Saphira7 - thanks, I'll try to keep it more regular._

_enchantedlight, Tentrees - thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it._

_**What Doesn't Kill You**_

Buffy awoke to a haze of aches and pains. Her right arm hung uselessly off the shoulder and her left thigh was sore and tight where muscles had attempted to knit together despite the obstacle in their path. The rest of her body hadn't fared much better, what wasn't scratched or bruised by the fight was complaining about the night spent on the frozen earth.

In a stark contrast to the crisp chill which surrounded her body, hot air blew across her face; damp and pungent. She jolted up in alarm; something was crouching over her, heavily exhaling stale air. Something big.

For a moment when her eyes opened Buffy was still unable to tell what was above her. All she could see was the huge shape that blocked the light directly in front, unfortunately without obstructing the dappled sunlight enough to give her eyes a chance to adjust to the sudden change. Scrambling back from the figure above her she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, finally turning the shadow into something substantial.

"Berus!"

Hearing his name, another of the gigantic dog's three heads turned towards her, nuzzling at her uninjured leg with a whine as the central head; the one which had been hovering above her, panted happily now that his friend was moving, licking her face in greeting. The right head, which had been peering down at her from the side suddenly jerked up, sniffing at the air to the south. It barked, alerting the other two heads, and all three muzzles turned to face what Buffy, still trying to rid herself of drowsiness, blearily realised was the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

Her canine friend paused, looking back at her even as he bounced in eagerness to greet whoever was coming towards them. Towards the clearing; Buffy realised with a start. The person coming towards them was headed to the clearing where the giant was held hostage. Did they know she wondered? Was this the person who had tied those thick ropes, or was the owner of the approaching footsteps as unaware as she had been of what awaited them?

Caught in the dilemma of whether to warn the approaching person and thereby reveal her presence out of bounds she didn't worry when Berus finally made up his mind and bounded away to greet his long lost friend.

"Fluffy!" the name was bellowed, followed by a grunt, no doubt caused by the enthusiastic greeting the huge dog enjoyed giving. "Wha's wrong? D'yeh wan' a tune?"

The beast yipped, and moved closer to where Buffy was hidden, clearly intending to introduce the two beings who had earned his trust. Deciding that she didn't want to meet the owner of the voice, at least not on anyone's terms but her own, Buffy scrambled to her feet trying to be as quiet as she could. With a length of wood still piercing her leg and an unusable arm there was no way for her to be quick in her escape, but she could at least attempt silence.

"Come on, show me what you've foun' later." the gruff voice "There's someone I want yeh to meet."

Relieved that they wouldn't disturb her, Buffy waited while the pair made their way into the clearing, the man seemingly unafraid of what dwelt within. The heavy breathing which had been a constant sound since she woke paused, followed by a rumble that could almost pass for a yawn.

"Grawp, meet Fluffy"

"Hagger" the sound was something between a grunt and a word, the closest the giant could get to speech. It came out mournful, like the whimpers which had echoed through the forest as it tended to the wounds Buffy had inflicted.

"What happened to yeh…"

As they spoke she had made it far enough away that overhearing the conversation from the clearing was an effort she couldn't afford. Not when every fragment of energy she had was being used up to just keep moving, to ignore the pain that radiated from her damaged leg at every step.

A roar of pain echoed through the forest followed by a resounding thump. Buffy's back gave a sympathetic twinge. As ridiculous as she thought the man was for bringing such a creature to the forest, for trying to leash, to control something so wild, Buffy couldn't help pitying anyone trying to tend to a giant's wounds.

The grounds were blessedly empty when Buffy reached the edge of the forest, peering our between the trees at the expanse of grass she would have to cross in order to reach the safety of the stairwell. She looked warily up at the building, light glinting her as the many windows reflected back the late morning sun. There was no way she could escape being seen when she limped across to the castle.

In Sunnydale she had often walked or, depending on the severity of the situation, run into public places with ripped clothes and mussed hair, sometimes even with obvious cuts and bruises. There it had been easy to mention an attempted mugging to ease any concerns, not that there usually were any.

For the same reason the 'attacks' she had mentioned to Snape barely warranted a raised eyebrow or evidence of concern; dangerous encounters were just a fact of life in the town. Despite its deceptively quaint suburban feel there were few residents who didn't to some degree know about the vicious night life. Attacks and muggings don't even reach local newspapers in a town with a lengthy obituary section.

Hogwarts on the other hand was not somewhere that people ignored similar instances of untidiness; something that had initially impeded Buffy's ability to take trips to the forest. Then her meeting with Remus not only lead to the discovery of the secret stairwell, but also gave her somewhere to rid her appearance of any evidence of her activities, finally freeing her to release her tensions without fear of discovery.

Usually her crossing of the grounds was made in the early hours of the morning, when dark clothes and a Slayer's natural propensity to hide in shadows made her almost undetectable by any residents of the castle. Now Buffy couldn't even use speed as a weapon, moving through the forest on her injured leg had aggravated the wound. She had tried to pull the shaft out of her thigh, preventing it from causing further damage as she moved, but it had broken off to close to the surface for her to get a good grip.

Resigning herself to a trip through open ground, she looked down at herself, trying to assess how bad a reaction she was likely to get. To say that she looked a mess would be a complete understatement.

The usually pristinely made up girl had spent the night unconscious on the forest floor and it showed, but the leaves caught in her hair and mud on her clothes were only the beginning of her disarray. The whole of her left trouser leg was covered in blood, some of which had dried to leave her jeans visibly stiff while the area around the wound was still slick in newly shed blood. The back of her jacket was ripped, some of which corresponded to tears in the shirt underneath and displayed raw scratches and dark bruises.

Anyone meeting her would rightly send her to the hospital wing and, although she would definitely benefit from the care she might receive, her speedy healing would only add to the questions about her. Not only that, but in her current state there was no way to deny where it was that she obtained her injuries. If there was concrete evidence that she had been visiting the forest at night, Buffy suspected that it would once again become nigh on impossible to make the trips.

Edging down along the forest's edge towards the abandoned hut which stood on the outskirts, near to the north-east corner of the castle, Buffy was vaguely surprised that the empty lawns weren't gaining any inhabitants. Though the chill in the air and remnants of the icy night on the grass were reminders that autumn was quickly headed towards winter, it was a dry if not clear day. Usually fine weather on a weekend was all that it took to bring swarms of students out of the castle. They were trapped there throughout the school week, often until dusk with the shortening days, and many would eagerly seize any time they could get outdoors.

A roar echoed across the grounds, its origins distorted as the sound bounced back from the school and for a moment Buffy thought that the giant had escaped, was coming to reap his revenge. Then movement caught the corner of her eye as another cheer resounded. Two figures on brooms were looping aimlessly about the sky above the Quidditch pitch, then from the other end a ball sped towards one of them. Before it could reach the boy another rose from within the stadium to intercept it; sending the ball back down into the game.

Her fears dissolved; there was little chance of detection while a Quidditch match was going on. From what she could tell the whole house went along to cheer on their team, and generally most of the other students and teachers attended. The games were eagerly anticipated, the result of any could be crucial to the championship, so few of the residents of the castle would be missing the opening match of the season.

As she began to make her break across the grounds, Buffy paused, noting that the overgrown area around the hut had been tended to for the first time since her arrival. Weeds had been uprooted and set aside, leaves raked away from the path leading up to the door. The owner of the hut, the groundskeeper who taught Care of Magical Creatures and had been inexplicably absent so far, must have returned.

That explained the man's presence in the woods where she had never before encountered another human, his ease in situations most would avoid. Apparently the missing professor had brought a creature back with him. Buffy hoped he didn't plan to use the giant in show and tell.

Buffy made it to the stairwell as the match finished. Leaving a faint trail of blood along the north wall where she had leant for support as she slowly staggered towards safety. As the door closed behind her Buffy spotted the first groups beginning to make their way back towards the school and collapsed in relief on the floor, finally able to rest.

It took as long to climb the flights of stairs as it had for Buffy to make her way from the giant's clearing in the woods to the castle. Steps were somehow even more taxing than making her way over the uneven ground of the forest, or perhaps it was just that her body, now devoid of the fear induced adrenaline which had driven her since waking, just couldn't continue.

She dragged herself across to Camilla's portrait, pulling it open without preamble, unable to think through the pain enough to worry that this would mean her friend would arrive poised for a fight. It had taken every ounce of concentration to not trip the stairwell's defences.

The statue arrived blindingly fast reaching the point where Buffy was leaning against the opening in a second, stopping her first attack just before it hit as she took in the state Buffy was in. Camilla reached for Buffy, about to offer the battered girl some support, then flinched back before their bodies came into contact.

"I can't help you…"

Unable to support herself, even with the help of the doorway, Buffy's leg gave beneath her.

The climb up the stairwell had been too much for her in such a weakened state; what little strength she had regained before waking had all been utilised in getting here. This time there was nothing left to catch herself with and she fell to the floor.

"I…" Camilla hovered over her, not quite touching "Every time I touch you it takes some of your energy.

"You have to."

"But… it… it could…"

"I can't do this myself." Buffy snapped "There's…. there's no one else here who knows. What I am. I…" she paused, steeling herself "You need to reset my arm and pull out the branch." In her journey here Buffy had tried not to think of what would have to happen once her destination was reached, the further pain that was in store.

Her arm would hurt more as it was put back in its socket than it had coming out, the procedure would have been easier if it had been reset the previous night but now, hours later the muscles and tendons would be taught, resisting any movement. The wound in her leg should have also been tended to hours previously. Time had allowed her slayer healing to rebuild the damaged tissue overnight which would only make removing the penetrating stick more difficult, and despite her abilities to fight infection, there was a chance one might set in after so long to fester.

"Buffy…"

"Just do it quickly. Then you won't have to touch me too much."

Resetting her arm took only moments, Camilla's sure hands quickly moving the limb back into position, and Buffy barely felt the loss as the part of her which was the slayer seeped into the statue at the points where marble hands gripped her arm. What she had lost in that brief connection was nothing to the energy now being directed to her shoulder, speeding up the healing of stretched muscles and tendons, forcing repair of damage to the ligaments and joint which for anyone else would have been permanent.

Buffy waited with eyes closed and teeth clenched, her whole body tensed for the next bout of pain which would accompany the removal of the stick in her thigh. When it didn't come she opened her eyes, finding the statue hovering over her again, apparently unwilling to continue.

"Don't worry, that wasn't too bad. I can take it"

"This will be worse…" Camilla paused, lines of worry etched into the usually pristinely smooth face. "Stop it Buffy" she snapped, as Buffy drew in air to continue her persuasion "That was just your skin, this… to get this out I will have to touch the wound, come in direct contact with fresh blood."

"It's always about the blood huh?" a pained smile whispered across Buffy's face.

"Every part of you holds the energy, the life-force of the slayer but yes, it is especially concentrated in your blood. The spells which animate me take what they can from any interaction, I cannot control them." And in Buffy's current state, the energy drained might be her final dregs.

Finally Buffy relented; her leg was stable, or relatively so, and waiting to recharge her inner resources wouldn't do much harm. She raised herself weakly on her good arm.

"Could you…"

Before she had completed her grudging request for help, Buffy was swept up into Camilla's arms. For an instant, the arm supporting her back was in contact with her raw skin and in that second she knew that the statue had been right to leave her leg alone. It was like leaping into icy water, when every ounce of warmth is torn from you, only this was worse. It wasn't just body heat which was escaping at the point where cold marble touched her scratches; it was something deeper, more primal; that spark which at some point far back in creation had made life from dust.

It only lasted a moment, Camilla quickly readjusted so that layers of clothing were preventing her from stealing too much of what Buffy needed to heal and carried the wounded girl up the stairs, gently laying her on the bed. That brief touch of stone to broken skin halted any further protests Buffy might have made.

The cuts were barely scratches and touching them had left her shivering and gasping for breath. She had felt that way before; felt her life force fading away. It was like drowning. It was like dying.

"Just rest for a few hours. That will make all the difference."

Buffy eyed the bloodied footprints which marked her journey across the study before contemplating the view of the grounds offered by the vast north facing window. Grounds which were now covered in a pristine white blanket. Gentle snowfall had slowly but surely covered the evidence of her path from the forest to the school, hopefully before anyone had taken note of the trail of blood she had left.

Turning away from the captivating swirls of snow, she checked her image in the mirror above the fireplace one last time. Luckily most of her scrapes and bruises were in places which were easily covered by clothing, especially with the current weather excusing long sleeves. Unfortunately a few of her injuries would not be so simple to conceal.

There was a mark which marred her left jaw, a bruise she didn't remember receiving that would usually have healed long before now, but with worse wounds to repair the insignificant scratches and bruises remained. The limp which she couldn't keep out of her walk would also raise some questions.

Upon waking Camilla had removed the bloodied stick from her leg and Buffy had cleaned the wound out in the spacious bathroom attached to the bedroom, keeping the taps running and drain open to create a flow of water; constantly removing the taint of blood. Clean and bandaged, her thigh felt better than it had all day, but it would be a few days before it was healed enough to move normally on it, and longer before full strength returned.

A bruised face and a limp, whatever concern they might cause her classmates, were explainable in a way that a dislocated arm and speared thigh never would be. She looked one final time into the eyes reflected back at her, trying to find within them the resolve she would need to last out the evening, to continue her game of pretend. Make believe that she was normal. It was odd how much harder it was to do here, among those for whom the existence of vampires was a fact, not a myth.

_**A/N**__- I know they say feeding addictions is wrong... but its Christmas after all... If that isn't a time to ignore consequences I don't know when is. I would love to hear what you think_


	41. Where There's Smoke

**_A/N:_**_- Happy New Year! It's crazy to think that we're into a whole new decade. Thank you to all those who reviewed - it's always lovely to hear what people reading think of this and it was especially nice to find so many messages in my inbox on boxing day._

_Nene-Akiko - I've always hated stories where everyone knows everything there is about one another early on; these people are used to secrets... let's see what happens when they keep them._

Saphira7 - I've got pretty into this, so no plans to stop yet...

sparky24 - I'm thrilled people seem to like camilla. The pourtraits were always pretty human... why not this.

ElfJet, General Mac, enchanted light, crazybibliophile - Thank you!

_**Where There's Smoke**_

"Finally came to see me about that limp did you?" the kindly mediwitch bustled about her domain, speedily tidying up empty potion vials and flicking her wand to send the mussed sheets from a vacated bed to the laundry before meeting Buffy where she was hovering in the doorway.

"That's just a bruise." She dismissed the injury, still refusing to fully enter the room.

It was almost ironic that, after all the effort and pain she'd gone through in order to avoid visiting the infirmary, Buffy had still ended up here. She looked about at the ward with its row of neat white beds and faint odour of disinfectant. Things which were apparently present in every hospital, muggle or wizard, and acknowledged the other reason she had not come. Even when the swelling in her thigh indicated that there was some kind of infection.

Everything about this place reminded her of death. In a way that the places where she had met the undead nightly never could, hospitals just gave Buffy the creeps.

"Well let's have a look at it anyway while you tell me why you're here." The witch led Buffy over to a bed, gently pulling her, and indicated that she should roll up her trousers.

Madame Pomfrey tusked over the mottled purple and green flesh which Buffy revealed, carefully hiding the real injury further up her leg, and quickly drew out her wand, casting the same spells Buffy had learnt to speed the healing along. Almost immediately the darker marks began to fade, although none disappeared completely.

"How did you get that?" she asked, moving away from Buffy to a cabinet on the far wall.

"I fell." At the doubtful look her brief answer received Buffy expended the response with her already over repeated explanation "I put my foot through the disappearing step on the north staircase to the forth floor."

The mediwitch winced, the step in question was two thirds of the way up a staircase; a long fall for those who didn't know or remember to jump it.

Although not a rare form of injury, the casualties she received that hadn't been injured by other students in some way were usually a victim of the complex and changing design of the school, she was surprised to hear that Buffy had injured herself in this way. There was always a bout of first years at the beginning of term before they got to know their way around, but by this time in the year that had usually settled down, leaving only the regulars who never seemed to learn. The girl before her had never fallen into either group, so it was odd that she had now succumbed to the dangers of the school.

"Rub this into the joint, I've eased the swelling but it will still be stiff for a day or so." She handed Buffy a small pot, watching carefully as the girl followed her instructions, nose crinkling at the harsh odour. "Now, why was it that you came."

"I couldn't cast in my Transfiguration class this evening." Finished with her task, Buffy tightly closed the lid to trap the smell of the ointment. "Professor McGonagall sent me." The knowledge that the Professor would likely check with Madame Pomfrey had been the only thing preventing her from ignoring the instruction.

Madame Pomfrey pulled a thermometer out of her breast pocket and aimed it at Buffy's mouth "Open up"

She inspected the result, a frown forming "Huh." Tapping the instrument with her wand and shaking it before giving it back to Buffy "Let's try that again."

The second reading only confused the witch even more than the first, sending her scurrying across to fetch potions and another identical device which she tested on herself before cleaning and giving to Buffy.

"What's wrong?" Buffy had never had much patience when it came to doing things without explanation.

"I think it's broken" she gestured to the thin glass tube she had initially used. On a closer look, although it did resemble a thermometer in shape and size, it wasn't one. There were no numbers along the shaft, merely a colour spectrum from a light watery blue through to a deep indigo and contained within wasn't mercury, not any kind of liquid Buffy had ever seen before; it seemed to be made of sparks.

"What does it measure?" she asked before obediently using the offered object.

"Your energy levels; our internal magic is constantly being used and renewed but sometimes if you overdo it you'll find it harder or impossible to cast."

"So that's why I couldn't do anything in Transfiguration?" Pomfrey looked at the new reading as Buffy spoke, confusion returning to her face.

"Yes, but it isn't just used in casting, it's used in everything we do. With energy levels this low, you shouldn't really be walking. Or limping" she added, glancing at the leg she had just tended. "Have you been feeling unwell at all recently?"

"I was pretty tired last week." Buffy offered a shrug "I might have been coming down with something."

The mediwitch mixed together two of the potions she had brought over in a glass, the combined mixture bubbled for a moment before emitting a puff of smoke and sparks, Madame Pomfrey handed the concoction to Buffy "Drink this, it should help boost your energy." She paused, looking critically at the girl on the bed "May I have a look at your timetable?"

She took a gulp of the potion before rummaging in her bag, almost immediately feeling better. The previous week she had overextended herself, using both her magical powers and slayer skills enough to leave her reserves depleted, but then both powers had been there, despite their weakened state.

This hadn't been like that, not exhaustion brought on by overwork, this was different; she could feel the slayer healing her wounds, using up her energy to speed her recovery even as it was replenished. Her magic shouldn't have been diminished and yet she could barely make sparks.

Buffy hadn't really noticed that she'd been missing something until she had tried to cast, now the previous void was highlighted as it was filled with the flow of the liquid into her. The potion's power spread through her, invigorating every cell, aiding the battle against infection in her limb. The magic returned.

It was silly really that she continued to think of her two abilities as separate entities. Two warring aspects of her nature. She understood that when one overflowed with excess energy its power was diverted, uncontrollably into the other, but hadn't considered the converse. That when one was drained from overuse it would feed from the other. She hadn't thought that healing her wounds would take energy from every part of her, slayer and witch.

" I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking…" The mediwitch muttered as she looked over the parchment Buffy had handed her, distracting Buffy from her thoughts. "I'm going to speak to the Headmaster about your timetable. We need to make sure you don't over do it with too many practical lessons. You need to be careful not to overexert yourself magically when ill or injured; it slows healing. " After frowning again at the timetable, Madame Pomfrey finally looked up and offered a reassuring smile. "For now, you're excused from your evening lessons this week. Try to use the time to rest."

Hopping off the bed, Buffy flexed her leg experimentally. It felt stronger, slightly more stable when she put her weight on it, her healing abilities already utilising the rejuvenation potion.

"Don't forget the salve for your knee" She handed Buffy the pot "and come back if you have any troubles casting."

Anthony was more excited than concerned by her trip to the hospital ward. "Even without your extra lessons you do twice as much casting as any other student. On top of that, you've been looking ill all week, and you had to heal all those bruises from the fall." His grin turned slightly wicked "I still can't believe you missed that step…"

"Hey" giving a girlish tap instead of a slayer strength punch to his arm was depressingly easy in her current state "I was ill… give me a break."

Luckily for Anthony, his positive perspective of the events wasn't solely down to the teasing material he'd gained; otherwise he might not have escaped a fully fledged slayer whack, even if Buffy had to wait to give it to him. He was merely keen to show her what he had been spending most of his free time organising, something made possible now that she had been excused from her evening commitments.

The next day was the 5th of November; a day to remember according to British tradition. They celebrate Guy Fawkes' failure to make the opening of parliament, attended by the King of the time, go up in smoke, by lighting fires and fireworks. While Buffy had known that Anthony was central to the organisation of the student celebrations of this night, it wasn't until she joined him out on the grounds after dinner where groups of students milled about a huge pile of burning wood that she realised that he had done it all. There were no teachers overseeing the event.

"Hey Buffy, so what do you think?" His eyes shone with more than just the reflection of the firelight, his usually cheery disposition magnified by the pride of what he had achieved.

"It's a good fire." And it was; standing like a beacon atop the cliffs overlooking the lake. The students had to stand back, away from the heat it created near the edge of the ring of light created by the blaze.

"You just wait, I got…" He trailed off as another group of students arrived, these failing to step into the light but instead standing stiffly on the outskirts observing not the flames but their peers where they chatted by the fire. "What are they doing here?"

Distractedly letting Buffy know that he would be back soon he went to greet the unexpected arrivals.

"Draco, I didn't know you were coming."

"Yes, well" the boy sneered as he looked around "My father's always told me not to ignore the opportunity for new experiences."

"Your... Father?" Anthony asked, blushing awkwardly as he noticed that most of those around the fire had now seen the new arrival and were showing an interest in their conversation.

Draco Malfoy on the other hand was not in any way put off by the attention; if anything he seemed to stand taller, adding to the presence provided by his slim frame.

"Yes, he thinks it helps understanding of other cultures. I'm _fascinated_ to see how muggles celebrate, and I know he will love to hear all about it." His companions laughed at his statement, enjoying the distain which had entered his tone and the way his pointed gaze, travelling over those present, made students cringe.

The message wasn't meant to be subtle; despite hiding his threat amongst pleasantries to remove any chance of retribution, Malfoy wanted all present to know he was there to report on who attended. His point amply made, the boy turned away from Anthony and the fire to speak to his friends in more muted tones, offhandedly dismissing his fellow prefect.

"Hi Buffy! Isn't this great?" She turned to find Neville, one of the few people there who didn't seem to feel uncomfortable following the exchange between Draco and Anthony "About DADA…" he continued in a muted tone.

"Really Neville, don't worry about it if you can't-"

"No! I mean, I just still don't know. I… I don't think I should push right now."

Buffy understood, even distracted as she had been, it would have been almost impossible to ignore the speculation about the weekend's events. The news of the long delayed return of the Groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor hadn't prevented debate about the banning of three Gryffindor quidditch players.

Uncertainty that the Headmaster would allow the excessive punishment to stand was answered by his silence in the matter, highlighting who was currently in charge of the school. Many still expected him to retaliate somehow, as he had in disbanding the houses, but without any sign from Dumbledore most were slowly losing faith. She would be surprised if extending the membership of the secret club he ran was anywhere on Harry Potter's mind at the moment.

As if summoned by the thoughts of him, she spotted the boy in question, entering the light produced by the roaring fire. Having come from the other direction to most, across the grass not from the school, Harry and his two companions hadn't yet noticed the Slytherins.

Anthony returned to Buffy's side "Hi Neville" he said distractedly, his eyes flicking constantly back to the group of Slytherins. "At least you won't be scared off by them."

Many of the students who had been excitedly chattering about the fire, mucking about lighting their wands different colours and waving them about, were now surreptitiously edging their way back to the school, keeping away from where Draco was observing the events.

"Why are they going?"

"Because they're hypocritical cowards." The bitterness in his voice was surprising, something rarely heard from the amiable boy.

"Anthony!" Padma, who had just arrived, missing Draco's thinly veiled threats admonished her fellow prefect.

"He's right Padma, if they really believe the Prophet; don't think that You-Know-Who is back, then why would they be worried that Malfoy might know they hang out with muggle-borns." That fire she had seen in Neville when he spoke against Umbridge had returned in spades; standing up for his beliefs suited him. The other two Ravenclaws were slightly taken aback by the sight, not having seen the boy incensed.

"So wizards don't celebrate…" Buffy paused, uncertain what exactly the occasion was.

"Bonfire Night? No." said Anthony

"The failed plot to kill the King" Padma cut in with an explanation "happened before the International Statute of Secrecy, when some muggles still knew about magic. There were a lot of witch hunts in the century or so before the plot. These were sanctioned by the muggle courts, so there wasn't much rejoicing in wizarding circles when the failed plot was reported."

"Yes, but now they say it would have been much worse for wizards if it had succeeded – muggles always treated wizards worse during wars. Especially civil wars."

"What about how…"

"Anthony?" Buffy interrupted Padma to get his attention, the pair would debate a point for hours if they were given the chance and History of Magic, was a speciality of Anthony's. "I think the Weasley's want you."

On the other side of the fire Fred and George Weasley were trying to get their attention, one of them waving an arm whilst the other grimaced, taking more than his share of the weight of the crate they held between them.

"Gotta go guys" Anthony rushed over to greet the twins, ushering them off to the far side of the fire.

"Looks like the fireworks have arrived; I hope they're not dangerous"

"Nah" Neville dismissed the idea that the Weasley's might ruin the occasion "They wouldn't use anything like that tonight. They wouldn't give anyone the excuse to ban it happening again."

"How come we're doing this if wizards don't like the celebration?"

"Some muggles-born students about a century ago decided they wanted to celebrate and sorted it out themselves… it stopped for a while when… when You-Know-Who was around, but it started again after." Padma paused and glanced over at Harry "The tradition had been adopted by a lot of wizards by then, so many were muggle-born or half-muggle, and so it was almost a relief to be allowed again, especially since it meant that he was gone."

"So that's why they didn't want Draco to see them here?"

Neville nodded "A lot of the traditional wizard families didn't think it should be allowed in the first place, that it was an insult to the witches and wizards who had been burnt. They prevented it ever being an official celebration, but no-one stops students organising a fire."

A sharp screech as a spark made its way up into the dark sky stopped all conversation, all present waiting for the bang that followed with its scattering of multi-coloured sparks which, instead of floating downwards, fluttered down to intermingle with the crowd. Each rocket added to their numbers until the area around the fire was filled with points of light, like multi-coloured fireflies, surrounding the students.

Buffy reached out to touch one of the hovering lights but it evaded her, darting out of the way leaving a trail of purple light. Other students were similarly playing with the glowing points; two boys sending them hurling at one another while a group of first year girls giggled as they span in circles, colours whirling about them. She met Neville's eyes, laughing at their antics.

A gentle fizzing started and the clouds of coloured lights swirled together to the point it emanated from before exploding upwards in a fountain. In the firelight, that now felt dull without the colour of the sparks, students looked about, unsure whether the display had ended. A few began to clap, showing their appreciation but that was quickly cut short by a series of sharp bangs.

A collection of rockets made their way up into the sky, not straight but corkscrewing up and around each other the trails behind them winding in and around another. Another set of bangs sounded, but they did not explode, instead veering off their vertical course to travel horizontally in pairs, twisting across the sky before exploding together with a quiet, almost anticlimactic pfut. Glowing green streams of light traced down from the end of the tracks the rockets had marked in the sky, enveloping the watchers under the boughs of what Buffy now saw was a gigantic willow tree drawn in the sky.

The display continued with flocks of birds which performed an aerial display before flying away into the forbidden forest and a shower of pink flowers, that caused Padma to sigh wistfully and were as fleeting as the cherry blossom they resembled. Finally, as curfew approached the twins announced the end of their show and, like ringmasters at a circus accepted the applause as their due.

"This fireworks display was brought to you courtesy of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, we hope you all enjoyed yourself"

As they spoke the whole area filled with clouds of smoke which slowly dissipated to reveal the grand finale. The dragon was gigantic, sitting back on its haunches as it viewed the crowed with piercing yellow eyes. Suddenly, with a flurry of black and bronze sparks which startled some of the onlookers enough to raise screams, it took off; flying up before diving down towards the crowd with a roar and passing close overhead before disappearing with a hiss into the lake.

There was a moment's silence as they overcame their shock which was as much a compliment to as the eruption on applause that followed. Buffy even thought she caught an impressed look on the face of one of the Slytherin girls who had accompanied Draco before the blond swept the group away into the school.

That night, with her leg now healing nicely following Madame Pomfrey's care and glowing pictures sketched upon the night sky etched into her mind, Buffy fell asleep without difficulty. She dreamt of another Buffy... a Buffy who never went to Sunnydale.

A Buffy who was taken by the wizards at fifteen when she was too young and bitter to hide what she was. Who had left the school at seventeen with little knowledge of magic and less of slaying. A version of herself who was being hunted.

**_A/N:_**_- For those of my readers who are not British and therefore probably know as little about Guy Fawkes or Bonfire Night as Buffy - On Nov 5th, 1605 a catholic plot to kill King James during the state opening of parliament by blowing up the House of Lords was foiled. The survival of the King has been celebrated ever since; with fireworks and bonfires (on which traditionally an effigy of Guy Fawkes - the most famous conspirator - is burnt). If you're interested, wiki has further information... I dont think I'm allowed to link to it here._

Remember, remember the fifth of November,  
gunpowder, treason and plot.  
I see no reason why gunpowder treason  
should ever be forgot.

_On another matter, I've been looking for good Harry Potter or Harry Potter/Buffy fic that take place in the 5th year (or that are not compliant with HBP/DH) to help me with my characterisation... I've been horrified to find that many of the essays on the Potterverse I once read as inspiration have been updated to include Horcrux's! It's quite annoying. Anything you care to recommend?_


	42. Reflected in Thick Water

_**Reflected in Thick Water**_

It took longer than Buffy expected for the wound on her thigh to heal fully. During that time, trapped in the castle by her inability to slay, Buffy began to use the other aspect of Camilla's secret room. In the first few weeks after she had discovered the statue, she had mainly used the discovery in her training; sparring with such a knowledgeable partner was exhilarating after the months without her watcher. With the injury she was suddenly unable to risk any form of combat, only able to practice her forms as she had before meeting Camilla, and so she began to appreciate the knowledge contained within the room.

Without her evening lessons, which Buffy was informed by Professor Flitwick had been suspended until the end of term when the teachers would reassess if they were necessary; Anthony, Padma and Michael's frequent absences in the evening became more noticeable. Luckily for Anthony, whose excuse upon returning to the common room on the first such evening was laughable at best, Buffy wasn't particularly interested in hearing where they claimed to have been – she knew what they were really doing. To make her own absences less conspicuous, Buffy began to use these evenings to spend extended time with Camilla, renewing her research into the law which had separated Slayers and Wizards for so long.

In Sunnydale Buffy had never had a reason to look at the collection of Watcher's Diaries, merely being subjected to Giles' summary of anything relevant to their current opponent. Now she attempted to wade through the day to day meaningless notations in Journals which were centuries old to find some meaning behind the Clause.

She skimmed through the diaries reading the renditions of long dead slayer's achievements. The diaries were in sets, each listing the actions of a particular slayer, but in the years she was interested in, the mid 18th century, there were gaps between the slayers before the diaries came to an abrupt end with the death of a slayer in 1756, a year before the breach in the code which had prompted the law. These gaps in the records were not explained, which though annoying was not unusual; they rarely referenced previous slayers in the diaries, focussing solely on the current one.

Quickly bored of her unproductive task, Buffy roamed the guardian's library, browsing through tomes on various creatures and demons until she came upon a book which finally pointed her in the direction of what she needed to know. It was a family tree, complete with anecdotes detailing, as well as the traditional dates of birth and death, the location of members at various points throughout their lives. A notation of 'S' and another date under some of the names that terminated a section of the tree, along with the age at which these girls died confirmed Buffy's suspicions; this was a slayer family tree.

She flicked to the end of the volume she had found and quickly swapped it for the following one, which should contain the years she was interested in. Jumping to the end of the book got her straight to pages which recorded the generations of potential slayers in the 1700's. Buffy found the last Slayer listed in the diaries with her dates of birth, calling and death neatly recorded, then back a couple of pages she finally found what she was looking for; 'Isobelle Chevalier, Born 1739, Called 1756, Died 1757'.

Unfortunately that was as far as she got. Discovering the name of the slayer involved didn't get her any closer to knowing what had happened. The only information she gained was that Isobelle had moved to Beauxbatons when she was called. This explained the gaps in the diaries; other wizarding schools also acted as home for slayers, but didn't reveal why this practice had been universally stopped.

Before giving up, Buffy couldn't help but flick through looking for the name on her birth certificate. She wasn't surprised that the act was unrewarding; there were centuries between the last name on this tree and the birth of the person who had given her the name. Besides, with Slayer abilities inherited through maternal lines it was unlikely that the surname she knew had any connection to this aspect of her heritage.

* * *

While she was busy finding distractions to make up for her physical limitations, the injury that caused them slowly healed. Muscles were repaired, if not at the speed that Buffy had anticipated, in a timescale which Camilla found reasonable, and they finally began to spar again. A break in an evening study session even gave her the opportunity to dwell on her plans for the weekend, in which her housemates would be horrified to know that she was anticipating escaping the school more than Ravenclaw's opening Quidditch match.

The common room had been uncommonly silent, voices at a murmur over laced by the scratching of quills on parchment. A particularly complex Charms essay along with a detailed write-up of the previous day's Transfiguration practical had forced the 5th year Ravenclaws thoughts away from the upcoming match and they had managed to quiet the younger students. No one however, could have prevented the excited chatter that arose as the team returned from their final training session, the players still showing signs of their time spent on the frozen pitch.

As it was, it didn't seem that anyone was particularly inclined to calm the welcoming; many of the 5th years used it as an excuse to take a break from their studies and joined those encouraging the team. Speculation about the match raised the question of the weather's affect on the game, and unable to work, Buffy considered how it might impact on her trip to the forest. Not that the weather could discourage her; despite everything she was itching to return, the slayer in her getting restless.

The students finally began to settle down once more, the studious atmosphere now destroyed with many students now chatting, and a conversation on the nearby table caught her attention. "At least November's nearly over; it's only four weeks till Christmas." The mention of the date startled Buffy.

With everything that had happened over the last month, she hadn't paid attention to the date, hadn't thought that Thanksgiving would come without notice. That without the constant reminders of the national holiday, she could forget about it.

She glanced at the clock upon the wall and quickly did the necessary calculations; it would be nearly 1pm in Sunnydale. What would her friends be doing? Had they continued the tradition of ignoring their relatives to celebrate with the family they had formed together? Would they be sitting down to their traditional fare with nothing changed but the slayer at the table?

Was her mother still the shadow she had seen in her visions? The distorted reflection of the loving woman she had always known; empty with the prime focus of that affection gone. Buffy hoped that Joyce had managed to cover her loneliness with more than false cheer; that she had found something to give thanks for.

The last thing her mother had said still haunted her, but at some point it had stopped being the words themselves that she remembered; the rejection in that phrase no longer what Buffy focussed on. Instead she heard the tone, heard her mother choking on a mixture of fear and love, begging Buffy not to put herself in danger.

A familiar wave of guilt swept through her, it was becoming harder to justify her silence; with the anger and grief faded all that remained was remorse. For so many things; for telling her mother the way she had, for leaving without a word, without an explanation. For allowing herself to be taken away, to become trapped in a world where any communications to those not a part of it ran the risk of being monitored, had to be passed on by authorities who would do anything to ensure that their secret wasn't revealed.

Unable to concentrate, she collected her work together and ascended the stairs. She had been so afraid of what the reactions of her friends and family might be, so caught up in her anger and guilt, that she hadn't considered that there might not be any recriminations. That they might just be thankful she was safe.

* * *

Amid the revelry filling the common room was a bleak spot, an area where the celebration of Ravenclaw's Quidditch victory didn't quite reach. Which should have been odd considering it was centred on the player who had concluded the game, scoring them the 150 points needed to secure their victory. It should have been odd, but it wasn't. Despondence tended to emanate from Cho Chang, even when she was attempting to appear cheerful, and the game had shown there was foundation to at least part of the rumours that this had been affecting her grades and flying.

"I hear Rodger's thinking of replacing her" Anthony commented, following Buffy's gaze to where Cho was sitting "I haven't seen a game before where a Beater pointed out the Snitch to the Seeker."

The Beater in question, a seventh year boy, was hidden in a crowd of admirers, enjoying his position as undisputed man of the match. Not only had he spotted the Snitch but, through some clever use of the Bludgers, had prevented it's capture by the Hufflepuff Seeker the only other time the golden ball had been located.

"I get the impression that's the least of her worries" She took the drink he offered her, sighing with contentment as the warm mixture made its way through her. A snowstorm had started the previous evening as she returned from the forest and had only intensified since. Nothing but Quidditch could have convinced the students to venture outside into the biting wind and Buffy was still warming up from the time spent out amongst the swirling snow.

"Yeah…" He trailed off, glancing fugitively at Cho. One of her friends, the girl who had been with her when Buffy had caught Neville midair, was speaking to her and the morose expression had left, replaced by one of forced cheer. A yelled Ravenclaw cheer provided a welcome distraction and he turned away from the sight, joining in with his housemates making the appropriate response.

The distance kept from Cho by most of the other students was highlighted now; even in the packed common room there was a space left around her. The eyes of the students skimmed over her like commuters passing a beggar; never quite focussing, allowing them to ignore what her grief implied. Avoiding her desperate attempts to continue as before in a world that had changed irrevocably the moment Cedric's corpse was discovered.

They all did it, even Anthony. He may be fierce in his belief that the dark wizard had returned, that they needed to protect themselves from what was coming, but Anthony didn't truly acknowledge what that meant.

It is sometimes said that it doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's the taking part that counts, Buffy had even heard a Hufflepuff say something similar on the walk back to the castle. It was debatable whether this applied to sports, but to war? Ultimately, regardless of morality, a battle was about death; and that's all you get out of it, win or lose.

A resounding peal of laughter at some comment distracted Buffy from her thoughts; someone had got a hold of some trick snacks and one of the Chasers was now sporting an impressive pair of antlers. Watching the open, easy joy on her housemates faces Buffy felt as far removed from them as Cho.

She wished she could still be that young, that innocent. That she could believe in good and evil, in black and white and ignore the shades of grey where people do bad things for good reasons. Forget that protecting yourself, those you love, can cause injury to people no more deserving; that saving the world can mean sacrificing what you hold dear.


	43. A Way With Words

**A Way With Words**

Her friends wereshocked when they learnt she would be spending the Christmas holidays away from the school, but would not be spending the time with family. The situation in which she had come to the school was largely known due to the rumours earlier in the term, but they hadn't understood the ramifications; that going home wasn't an option. Soon what had started as commiserations from her friends rekindled the rumours of her elusive heritage of why a British newborn had been abandoned in Los Angeles; of just what her parents had been hiding her from.

The weekend before the end of term, Buffy headed along the corridor to Professor Flitwick's office, sighing resignedly when one of the first years gossiping behind her shrieked as she paused to enter the room and the group scurried off with talk of dark wizards. Her Head of House had been surprised but amiable, pleased even, when she requested permission to spend her holiday in London. He was assisting her with plans for the holiday; and would ha=opefully be able to confirm that he had secured Buffy a room at the Leaky Cauldron.

The small man didn't even attempt to hide his amusement at one of the young student's last audible comment, claiming that Buffy was Dumbledore's daughter. Fortunately the group was far enough away that Buffy and Flitwick were unable to catch just who had supposedly bourn the Headmaster's illicit child. Already disturbed by the thought, Buffy had no desire to stretch her senses to find out. Her peers really seemed to enjoy coming up with the most obscure theories, unable to understand her own lack of interest in the situation.

"They do have some strange ideas." The Charms teacher commented as Buffy closed the door and turned to face him to be met by, not his usual cheerful smiles, but an assessing gaze that made her respectful greeting catch in her throat.

"Sir?"

"Did you ever question why your circumstances were not considered rare?" He asked "Or, perhaps, wonder about the empty classrooms, the unused dormitories?"

He was looking intensely at Buffy, not the penetrating stares of Dumbledore or Snape which seemed to delve into her mind; merely focussing entirely on her, trying to get a message across. Buffy wasn't certain what the message he was trying to convey was, but had a sinking suspicion that it wouldn't be one she wanted to receive, especially if it was regarding the rumours.

"All that space gone to waste. It is only in the last couple of years that we have reached anything close to the pervious intake - there were so many wizarding families who died or fled the country during the war."

It was almost as terrifying as feeling someone entering her thoughts, this pointed divulging of information. Did he know something she didn't, Buffy wondered; have some reason to suspect who her parents were.

"Seventeen years ago there were countless reasons for wizarding parents to take their child somewhere safe – somewhere away from the battles at home. If they were unable to abandon the war, their country for whatever reason, good or bad, at least their child would be safe."

"You don't" Buffy paused, stumbling over her words, unsure if they were true, if she wanted them to be. "You don't know who they were; you can't know why they left me."

"No," the breath she let out at that word was almost a sob. Even she, in her state of heightened emotion, was unsure if it was caused by relief of regret "but I know what our world was like then. Full of suspicion and fear; nobody knowing another's true loyalties, all prejudices running high. As I said, there are many things that may have caused someone to take such drastic action."

Buffy's composure fully broke and collapsing into anger instead of tears, she snapped at him "Even if the war was their reason to leave me it's been over for fourteen years. If they had wanted to they could have found me."

Her teacher regarded her calmly, without any sign of recrimination for her outburst. Waiting for her to reach the conclusion he evidently had reached. The surge of hope, grief and pain that had overcome her passed; leaving Buffy feeling hollow, empty in its wake.

"They're not dead." She stated, causing his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise at the certainty in her tone "I wanted to order some things by owl, so I asked Gringots for a statement. There have been deposits of varying amounts made for the last sixteen years. Who else would do that?"

"Who indeed." He murmured thoughtfully, his eyes flicking over her face with a frown before he dismissed whatever ideas he had with a shake of his head. When their eyes met once more it was as if a different person regarded her "I believe you are here regarding your holiday plans, Miss Summers."

"Yes" she hesitated; caught off guard by the man suddenly reverting to his usual formality "sir."

"I have received a response from Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. They have a room available for you for the duration of the holiday."

Flitwick continued detailing the price of the room she had retained and reminding her that use of a wand away from the school was strictly prohibited. Their earlier conversation forgotten, like a bizarre dream, not quite real, only the brief look in his eyes before she left verified the memory of what had been said.

That night Buffy mulled over Flitwick's comments. Was it true; could her parents have had a valid reason for abandoning her? He had almost seemed to have an idea who she was, the way he had looked at her like the ghost of a memory, but the mention of her money had silenced him, refuted his ideas.

Thoughts of the money sent a wave of resentment through her. She couldn't help but think that the person who had made all those deposits could have found her, could have been there for her if they wanted to. The box in her hands groaned under the strain of her grip. Loosening her hold, Buffy reminded herself of a specific roll of parchment contained within, the most difficult to write of all the letters home; her mom was far more important than those who had given her up.

* * *

Fortunately for Buffy, in the last days before the school emptied for the Christmas holiday, Harry Potter managed to once again promote himself to the most discussed resident of the school; largely due to the fact that he was no longer there. He disappeared abruptly in the middle of the night, along with all of the Weasley family, leaving pronounced gaps on the Gryffindor table during meals. The Headmaster's curt non-explanation only adding to rumours that expanded with every retelling.

On the last day of term, the reason for Professor Flitwick's relief that Buffy had decided to leave for the holidays and cheerful assistance with her plans became apparent. None of the student body stayed behind in the school, leaving the staff free of any responsibility over the holidays. She took a seat amongst the fifth year Ravenclaws on the train back to London, her classmates carefully avoiding any discussion of their holiday plans, not wanting to upset her with talk of family obligations she couldn't take part in.

Despite her classmate's worries, Buffy was looking forward to spending time at the Leaky Cauldron, excited about the freedom her time in London would offer. No one in Diagon Alley had any reason to pay attention to her comings and goings, the anonymity of being one face amongst thousands would be a welcome respite after the attentive suspicion she had endured at Hogwarts. The train finally pulled into Kings Cross and she stepped out onto a platform filled with joyous reunions and fond farewells, quickly exiting into the anonymity of the crowded Muggle station.

The early winter dusk had begun to descend before they left Hogsmeade Station, but in travelling south the train had chased the dwindling light so that darkness only fully set in an hour before they had arrived in London. By the time Buffy reached the Leaky Cauldron night had firmly taken hold and she knew that vampires would be seeking prey, taking advantage of the busy streets. Leaving her belongings, Buffy returned to the Muggle city, to where the vampires hunted.

The British businessmen, walking briskly through the city, seemed not to notice the biting chill on the cold air that added to the eminence of the night. They didn't care that the clouds of steam which came with every breath were merely adding to the growing haze. A fog was settled over London, it was thickest, most oppressive near Diagon Alley, thinning as she travelled away from the magical street. She moved through the crowds of people that filled the main streets to the smaller ones that were, all of a sudden, a whole different world to the ones she'd left.

There the twinkling lights from shop windows and marvellous Christmas images shining brightly on lampposts made the bleak night almost cheerful; the crisp air adding a festive excitement to the evening as shoppers rushed between over stocked stores so as to spend as little time as possible in the cold. But beyond the cheerful high streets there was only the sparse light provided by the streetlights – ever muffled and dimmed by the mist that blanketed the streets. There was nothing to add glitz and glamour to the night, masking its dangers in a sense of fun.

Here, with the fog as their cover the creatures of the night thrived, preying on their unsuspecting quarry. A feral smile graced the slayer's lips, time for the hunters to be hunted.

* * *

She stared down at the letter, reading it through once more despite the hours already spent on making sure that the wording was perfect, trying to imagine her mother's face as she read it. Would she understand, could she? Given Joyce's reaction to finding out she was a slayer, Buffy didn't know how her mother would respond to learning that her adoptive daughter was also a witch. Although, Buffy considered on reflection, her mom did know; had been told about it nearly seven years ago when the invitation to Salem arrived.

Buffy shook her head to clear it of any negative thoughts, silencing that small part of herself which insisted on reminding her of her mother's final words.

_"Don't even think about coming back"_

No, many things had been said and done that day that shouldn't be reflected upon; twenty four hours of guilt, hurt and pain. Looking down at the plain Muggle paper, purchased solely in order to write this letter, so as to not confuse her mother by using parchment and quill, she skimmed the words yet again. Scanning the phrases used to explain this other world which had ensnared her with its laws, why she had left Sunnydale after that night, how much she looked forward to come back.

She had considered calling, but even ignoring the difficulties she might face in finding somewhere with no chance of being overheard and the cost of a long distance call which couldn't help but be lengthy, decided that sending a letter would be better. Every time she thought about Sunnydale, about her mother and friends, a well of emotion built up inside her that she was unable to contain. Buffy knew that hearing Joyce's voice would be the last straw, would break her feeble resolve, making her incapable of explaining clearly what she needed to say.

This way, with it all thought out and written down, Buffy could be sure that she had said all that was needed, in amongst her heartfelt apologies and words of love. With one final glance over the words, she placed the letter in its envelope, addressing it and placing the precious document in her bag along with the remains of the Muggle money she had exchanged to buy stationary the previous day. With a twenty pound note and some change remaining, she wasn't worried about there being enough to pay for the postage.

Despite her continual perusals of the words, they hadn't changed since she first wrote them on Thanksgiving. Buffy had known then that she couldn't send it by owl post; despite Neil's kind offer she couldn't ask him to be a party to her keeping secrets from the wizarding world, and his help would have been needed to prevent information about what she was being revealed. Neil, when he had mentioned to her that mail sent from wizards to Muggles was routinely monitored, had not known that he was doing more than preventing her from disclosing too much about the wizarding world; hadn't realised that the only things she wanted to say, the only way she could explain, was by writing about a part of her she couldn't let any wizards find out about.

Although the letter could not be sent through the wizarding postal system, Buffy couldn't imagine that they were able to monitor the vast quantities of post sent by Muggles, especially at Christmas when the whole system is overrun by greetings cards and packages of brightly wrapped presents. Shouldering her bag she left her room, heading for the Muggle city, still trying to quash her remaining doubts and fears.

* * *

It was a relief to have the decision made, the letter gone; now insignificant amongst the hundreds of similar white envelopes given over to the care of the Royal Mail. Buffy left the post office, wandering aimlessly through the streets of Muggle London with the purpose that had driven her now complete. When she had been walking for some time, her stomach began to rumble, complaining that she hadn't thought to feed it. Tom's hearty breakfast, eaten first thing that morning, suddenly seemed an age away. It was now late in the afternoon; late enough that the long shadows might be enough shelter to hide vampires in search of an early meal.

Buffy looked up, intending to find a small meal before beginning her hunt, only to discover where her feet had taken her. She was in one of the little squares that hid amongst the side roads between and behind the main shopping streets, with the wrought iron railings surrounding the Council of Watchers just visible on the far side of the square.

The heavy wooden door swung open, a trickle of scholarly men and women exiting their workplace at the end of the day. They split up at the bottom of the steps that lead down from the building, making their way to whatever means of transport they would take home. Buffy averted her eyes, resuming her walk just as one Watcher, coming towards her across the grass, began to show an interest in the girl staring fixedly at their headquarters.

She shouldn't be here, at the one place in the entire city where she might be recognised, but somehow she was being inexplicably drawn closer; couldn't move away, couldn't ignore the thought that in this place there might be the answers. Isobelle Chevalier. They had to know what happened to her, what she had done, what had been done to her. What it was about her time as a slayer that had caused the line to be forever separated from the magical world.

Buffy was nearly at the entrance when the door swung open and a man rushed down the steps, walking straight into her. His nose had been deep in a book which fell when they collided; it was sent falling to the ground along with his briefcase, which sprung open on impact to deposit more ancient texts onto the clammy pavement. With a bumbling apology, he began to collect his scattered belongings, and Buffy lent down to help.

Mumbling a quick "Thank you" as he finished sorting his things, he accepted her offer of a hand standing and, grumbling as he began to beat the pavement dirt from his once pristine suit, finally met Buffy's eyes. His pupils almost immediately expanded in surprise, and the pair froze for a moment, his grip still fast upon her hand. The fear that had been suppressed by her curiosity emerged in force; what would the Council do if they found her, how would the wizards react? There wasn't any outcome Buffy could imagine which was good.

Then just as Buffy was preparing to yank her hand away, to run into the night before he could summon his colleagues, the look of recognition turned into a frown of confusion and embarrassment.

"I am terribly sorry for running into you like that."

"No harm done." Buffy responded quickly, starting to move away, keen to get far from the Council Headquarters, but he still had her hand, unwilling to let her leave.

"I really should have been looking where I was…" The man, who turned out to be quite young; perhaps just out of university and still slightly uncomfortable in his suit, looked her over with a hint of recollection that scared Buffy into interrupting his apologies.

"Really, don't worry about it. Your books weren't damaged were they?"

"No…" He trailed off, still looking at her with an intensity that made Buffy want to hide her face "for some reason I cannot stop thinking that I know you from somewhere."

The wave of terror returned with those words, did the Council keep pictures of slayers, was there a wanted poster circulating amongst them with her face plastered upon it? Buffy schooled her features to hide her worries, trying to keep any note of fear from her voice "People are always saying that; I must just have one of those faces."

"Yes," the young man murmured "I suppose that could be it. Well," he started, collecting his belongings together and preparing to leave "thank you again for your help and for being so understanding." He paused again before moving, eyes gliding once again over her features. Before he could figure out just where he knew her from, Buffy said goodbye and took off at a brisk walk, refusing to turn back at his hasty "Good Evening."

When she rounded a corner, leaving his line of sight, she ran; away from him, away from the Council and the hopes and fears that came along with it. She didn't stop until she had nearly reached the Leaky Cauldron, entering the oppressive mist that had settled over that area of town, only seeming to thicken with each passing evening. Despite the cool dank fog, Buffy felt relieved to enter the pub, leaving the Council further behind than its distance in Muggle London; they couldn't follow her here.

Tom brought a steaming mug of Butterbeer to her table as she sat down, knowing Buffy's habits well enough to be able to anticipate her needs, able to see at a glance that she required a comforting drink. She took a swig with a sigh, allowing the warm liquid to flow through her, but below the contentment, hidden by the reassurance of being surrounded once more by the magical world, something was niggling at Buffy's senses, warning her that all was not right.


	44. Nocturnal Wanderings

_**Nocturnal Wanderings**_

It wasn't even six, but the English winter had brought on the fleeting dusk early. The shops of Diagon Alley unlike those in the Muggle city did not extend their opening hours for the festive season, so the shoppers had long departed. Any who might have lingered at the cafés or restaurants put off by the unwelcoming weather, or the strange sensation that seemed to permeate the air here, sending a shiver of dread down Buffy's spine. There was something hiding in the mist.

She was startled out of an attempt to sense what was there by the loud slamming of a door somewhere down the street and the sound of heavy footsteps pacing towards her. The weather seemed to distort the sounds; long after the level of noise suggested its cause should be visible, a dark shape slowly emerged from the mist.

"Good evening" Blurred features sharpened to reveal those of the cheery shop assistant from Flourish & Blotts and Buffy let out a breath, relaxing her body which had tensed; ready to fight "Looks like we'll be having a white Christmas this year, even if not in the usual manner." The young man joked as he drew aside Buffy, his smile faltering slightly when she failed to respond; her attention once again distracted by a raise in the ominous feeling. He followed her gaze back into the mist and shivered, unsettled by a sensation that flowed over him. Unwilling to loiter, he quickly exchanged pleasantries; bidding her a farewell before disappearing into the warm pub.

Without him the sensation got, if possible, worse and the part of Buffy that was designed to battle the things which prey on humans rose within her, ignoring the dejected slant her thoughts had begun to take as they focussed upon memories of other nights that had felt like this. Nights when she had failed in her duty, arrived too late.

Buffy began to pace up the street, trying to concentrate on what her senses were telling her, not the soul deep chill that settled over her as she was enveloped in the mist. It got worse as Buffy moved further from the pub; the feelings, the memories, almost every aspect of her wanting to get as far from here as possible, craving the comforting environment of the Leaky Cauldron, urging retreat.

The one part of her that didn't want to turn around pulled her forwards. What lay ahead was not a thing of life, of the day; there was something there that did not belong in this world, and the slayer forced Buffy onwards to confront it.

_Something so big shouldn't happen in a place like this, a dingy office in downtown LA. It was laughably unreal that after all the events of the previous year it was here, amongst the futile state bureaucracy, that she was finally told the truth. Here that everything fell apart all over again._

_By the time she got to this place she had shed most of her childish hopes, all of the grand, angst filled reasons she had once created to explain away her parents need to give her up, almost resigned to the more sensible reasons; that her mother might have been young, financially or emotionally unable to support a child. She thought she had prepared herself for the worst, only clinging onto the faint hope that her birth mother might, like her, be eager to re-forge the bond that had been broken a decade and a half before. That the woman who had given her up would be as curious about the girl she had bourn as Buffy was her._

_"You were found..."_

_The words had a visceral affect, echoing through her head, preventing her from hearing any more. Not that she needed to. That was enough. That was everything._

_What did she care where it had happened. She was a foundling. That was all that mattered. That was what destroyed her remaining dreams of, not a family; she had a family, but a relationship with the person who should have been a part of it._

It was like a sucker punch, a physical blow that left you helpless. To have these thoughts rise up within her and crash into the forefront of her mind, gone was any thoughts of joy, of hope. All that seemed to remain were the darkest thoughts, no longer was despair just a feeling emanating from the mist; it engulfed her, became her.

But the slayer, that distinct aspect of her being which completed her whole. The slayer didn't have hope and so couldn't despair from loosing it; its only pleasure was in the fight, the kill, and that wasn't a joy that could be taken away. As Buffy cowered back from the thoughts that were being forced upon her, the slayer rose within, taking control dragging her onwards to confront the indistinct things causing it all.

In a lucid moment Buffy realised where she was headed, where these feelings were coming from; the side street that lead off Diagon Alley, the street she had been warned against visiting because "It's not a place for young ladies" as Tom had pointedly told her with a stern, fatherly look. Knockturn Alley, it was a place of shadows and cloaked figures, a passage so narrow that even at noon it never seemed to capture any light, tall buildings either side leaning inwards, overhanging the path.

Stories of Muggle-born witches and wizards gone 'missing' after a trip to Knockturn Ally were rife in the Leaky Cauldron, and it was these more than any warnings that had kept Buffy away. She could easily withstand most attempts to harm her, but in doing so she would doubtlessly be revealed for what she was. Renewing the wizard's knowledge of slayers wasn't something Buffy was keen to do, not until she knew why Clause 75 was there.

_The Master reached for her, his hand around her neck. She tried to resist him; tried so hard to fight but he was like a haze in her mind, nothing solid to fight back against but always there. All hope all belief in herself left as he carefully took off her coat. She was unable to stop him, unable to move through the fear he had trapped her with._

While lost in her memories, the slayer had made the decision for her; setting off into the mist so thick it seemed solid, a thick white blanket covering her vision. Her thoughts became worse until suddenly, strangely they stopped. She had reached an odd equilibrium, the slayer at the forefront directing her onwards and her thoughts, feelings muffled by that primal presence. Buffy was there, aware of what was happening but as incapable of doing anything as she had been when bound by the Master's will.

The slayer paused as she neared the cause of all this, assessing her foes. There were three figures waiting on the cobblestones outside a shop whose door hung ajar, the frame splintered from the impact of a powerful spell. All three of the men, creatures; she wasn't sure what title to give beings that could emit such woe, were shrouded completely in black, two turned towards her, their faces hidden in deep hoods and one by the doorway, looking at something inside.

The figure at the door moved back to let another leave and she saw that these two unlike the others were wearing masks beneath their hoods. It was as if this distinct difference highlighted the minor ones; the black garb of the two in the doorway consisted of flowing hooded robes, indistinct from the usual wizard's attire, while the other two, though also entirely clothed in black, appeared to be shrouded in tattered cloaks.

When one of these creatures flowed towards the masked pair in the doorway the dissimilarities became clear; the others had moved like people, people attempting to hide their identities but nevertheless human. The things which were the cause of Buffy's soul deep chill were not human, they weren't even close. As they neared the wizards, she was finally able to put them into proportion, away from the deceptive shroud of the mist; they were impressive beings, dwarfing their companions who flinched back as the towering creatures drew closer.

"Why did we have to bring them?" The figure who had been waiting outside whined, moving away from the cloaked figures with a shudder.

"You know why." His companion responded shortly, scanning the mist which surrounded them.

"We could have just cast a…"

"Do you want the ministry to know we're here?" The one who had entered the house, the leader of the pair from the way he treated his companion, quickly stopped his partner's complaints "Any charm strong enough to keep people away from here would bring out Aurors in droves."

"They give me the creeps." He muttered sullenly, resigned to following orders he didn't enjoy.

"That's the point isn't it," the leader asked, drawing something large out from his robes "no one will come close while there's Dementors here, and most wizards wouldn't even know why they're keeping away. Now, keep this safe and fix the door while I speak to our friends." He handed his companion the object and headed to meet the creature who had come over to them.

Had Buffy been in control, she might have waited longer to attack, attempted to find out more about what these wizards were doing, what the creatures they had with them were. But Buffy was just riding along in the mind of the slayer who had decided that she had seen enough, had fully assessed her foes; that it was time to fight.

"It says…" the masked wizard stopped, mid turn, staring at Buffy as she emerged from the shadows.

"What?" his companion snapped, angry at anything that might delay them from leaving this place, these things.

"It says there's someone here." The leader's eyes remained locked on Buffy's, his voice betraying hints of apprehension and wonder, that someone had come this far despite their watchdogs, that this girl showed no fear.

The slayer sped up when the man reached into his robes, slamming into the figure by the broken door as he turned, knocking the air out of whatever stupid response he had planned to make. A quick succession of spells hit her from behind, making her limbs feel heavy; like deadweight, and slowing her movement enough that the trapped wizard escaped her grasp. When the wave of numbness passed she quickly rolled to her feet, using her opponents surprise at her mobility to disappear into the mist.

"I thought you stunned her" the dissatisfied thief complained as his companion bent to collect their fallen bounty, carefully caressing the object as he checked for any damage.

"I did."

"Then how did she…"

"That does not matter. What matters is getting this to our Lord." He looked about warily as they stood before taking another object out from within his robes "It's time to go. The Dementors will deal with the girl. You know they have been hungry."

She ran towards them, but without another word they were gone, with nothing left as evidence that they had inhabited the empty air she cannoned through. Nothing but the creatures they had brought with them.

There were, Buffy realised as she felt them coming towards her, more of them than just two. Perhaps the others had been posted at separate points in the alleys to discourage any who might decide to trespass upon the thievery, regardless now half a dozen of the cloaked figures were emerging from the gloom.

_She recognised the voice even distorted as it was, devoid of the caring and love she had always found in it; filled with hate._

_"I've got a message for Buffy."_

_Finding them there, like that, only brought into sharp contrast how strangely he had acted earlier._

_"Why don't you give it to me yourself?"_

_"Well, it's not really the kind of message you tell. It's sort of involves finding the bodies of all your friends."_

_That smile, it still contained remnants of the one she had loved, the one that showed he loved her, but this smile was twisted into a manic grin that contained nothing but a sadistic pleasure at the pain he was causing. Willow's pained exclamation forced Buffy to try and concentrate on the situation._

_"This can't be you."_

_"Gee, we already covered that subject."_

_"Angel, there must be some part of you inside that still remembers who you are."_

_A knot of guilt, of loss and despair was building; growing within her with every word they exchanged. Every word that proved this wasn't the man she loved anymore; this wasn't the man she had made love to._

_"Dream on, schoolgirl. Your boyfriend is dead. You're all going to join him."_

_"Leave Willow alone, and deal with me."_

_"But she's so cute and helpless. Really a turn-on."_

_It was testament to how shaken Buffy was, how focussed her entire being was on the vampire before her that she hadn't noticed Xander sneaking up on Angel with a cross. It was he who saved them, not Buffy, not the one with the strength needed to fight the monsters. Because this was one monster that she didn't know how to fight, something that was proved as he grabbed her; Buffy couldn't move._

_"Things are about to get very interesting" he told her with a kiss before sweeping away in a manner that was achingly familiar, leaving her with a bitter longing._

_ She had loved and lost, lost all hope, for she couldn't even grieve when the beautiful face she had spent so many hours lovingly gazing into was threatening her friends. Buffy stared at the door that Angel had left through, unable to move on from that moment of despair towards what needed to be done._

She had thought it was bad before, but that had been nothing; merely the ambient aura that these creatures emitted. Now they were focussed upon her, intent on drawing from her every shred of joy that remained; every ounce of hope. Any thoughts of happiness were long gone, leaving only the ones filled with horror.

It was the worst of these memories that the creatures drew out, for they are the ones where there is some fragment of hope hidden within; just as no one can truly make you miserable without also holding the ability to make you complete, there is no despair without a broken dream of a better outcome. They pulled her darkest recollections forth, devouring her futile dreams to leave only the painful reality behind.

The longer the memories dredged up were the worse it was. She felt battered, bruised, but she didn't know how as the figures that now closely surrounded her showed no marks upon them. What had the slayer done in her absence that left this aching in her skin, her bones, this fire in her blood. To leave her crippled by the inability to breathe, desperately scrambling for air, for warmth, for anything but this desolation that had seeped into every aspect of her thoughts. That was slowly chipping away at the fractured edges of her soul, allowing something to seep through the gaps, for things that never should to come into contact.

The closer they drew the more broken Buffy became; the slayer no longer able to protect her by occupying the forefront of her mind. These things delved into every crevice of her thoughts, of her feelings and took everything but the worst, draining the shards of hope that existed in even the worst memories.

_Angelus gasped in pain, his eyes flashing a bright red before the monster she had been fighting wilted, every muscle loosening as he fell to the floor in pain._

_And when he looked back up at her, he wasn't a monster at all "Buffy? What's going on?" _

_It could be a trick, another game to try and escape his fate, but she couldn't quite believe that these open, fearful eyes hid the mind of the beast that had killed so many. He stood up slowly, painfully as if every movement was new._

_"Where are we? I-I don't remember."_

_"Angel?" She indulged in that flicker of hope that he was back, he was hers._

_He noticed her wound and the reaction fuelled her dreams, eased her fears, "You're hurt." She clung to him, to what might be, to the love she saw in his eyes even if it was just pretend. "Oh, Buffy… God." It was enough, for a moment to feel this. "I… I feel like I haven't seen you in months." Buffy finally collapsed into the embrace, allowing the hopes to be true, allowing herself to believe. To just breathe him in._

_"Oh, my God, everything's so muddled. I..." she felt him nuzzle into her shoulder, an achingly familiar expression of his caring almost forgotten in the weeks of pain "Oh, Buffy..."_

_Buffy sobbed herself in relief, in joy, the emotions almost overwhelming in their purity, but then the demon grumbled behind them, its jaws opening to consume the earth. Her dreams shattered into grief and despair, equally powerful feelings that destroyed her._

_"What's happening?"_

_She only realised when he asked that she had drawn back from him, a reaction to what was happening, to what Buffy knew she must do. _

_"Shh. don't worry about it." Buffy caressed the face she so loved, easing away the lines of worry and kissed Angel as the vortex behind him grew, trying to feed into the gesture all of her love. She wouldn't need it anymore._

_She whispered the words, confirming what she had told him in the kiss, and heard them echoed back in a tone that Angelus had never managed to mimic, that the demon wouldn't know how to. She couldn't do this, not with him watching her, those dark emotive orbs radiating his caring, his trust._

_"Close your eyes."_

_Buffy stepped back and thrust the sword into the one she loved, unable to take her eyes away from the wound she'd caused even as he stumbled back, unwilling to meet his gaze as he finally began to understand what she had done. She didn't need to look to see his shock at this betrayal, the pained comprehension. It seemed to reverberate through the air between them._

_"Buffy…"_

_Even when he called to her, reached for her she couldn't move her gaze away from the wound she had caused, the sword she had thrust into him. What she was dreading so much was there in the way he spoke her name, a pained mix of longing and forgiveness. She couldn't meet a loving gaze as she banished him to hell, couldn't allow him to absolve her of these actions, his absolution would only add to her guilt._

_It worked; the vortex closed, the world was safe, but she couldn't be glad of her completed deed. Waves of a far darker emotion were quickly overtaking her as she thought of what she had done, who she had done it to._

They were so close now, dark hoods leaning over as they bent towards her face, sucking every feeling from her, every ounce of hope she'd ever felt. Her soul was broken, unable to withstand their attack, leaving nothing to stand firm between the powers that raged inside her.

_**Additional Disclaimer:**-The flash back dialogue was copied directly from BtVS using the transcripts at BuffyWorld, the creative rights for these words belong the writers of the respective episodes, Joss and Mutant Enemy._


	45. A Time and a Place

_**A Time and a Place**_

The slayer didn't feel grief, didn't know despair; how could it with no understanding of pleasure beyond the satisfaction of a kill. It couldn't be immersed in sorrow, but it knew anger. It rose up to battle her enemies.

But that wasn't the only power that resided within her skin and the magic surged forth as well, singing through her blood as easily as the slayer's energy. The feral power of the slayer finally unbound by the leash of control she imposed upon it, her life-force released from the bindings of purpose. The two aspects had never been active together, they had fed one another, one could be used as a release for overflowing energies in the other, but always the active draining the dormant.

Her powers had been like oil and water flowing through her veins, both infusing every inch of her but separate. Always apart. Sometimes her slayer would become overwhelmed with energy and, like hot oil that force was transferred into the water nearby, energising her magic but they never really mixed. Never like this.

The powers battled for dominance, equal forces fighting for control over the petite body in a war that could never be won. They surged against one another, releasing flashes of pure energy which drove back her dark attackers. In the midst of the beacon that was lighting the murky sky, the remaining fragments of consciousness that were Buffy felt the two powers crash together again, sending a wave of pain coursing through her every cell.

With her attackers retreating, recoiling back from the volatile girl, Buffy began to be able to think, to feel again. She searched within, feeling for her powers in vain. Unable to locate the familiar energies that should be flowing through her like quicksilver. There was something there, something that almost felt like the controllable but never truly tamed power of the slayer, that fierce fire that constantly burnt within. This energy wasn't restrained; it was a wildfire raging uncontrollably, but it wasn't just the freed power of the slayer, the dark fire was edged by a crackling sensation that had the sharp lightning tang of magic.

This new force that dwelt inside her wasn't going to stay there, not when her mind was too weak to fight against its will; still battered by the attack of the creatures. Creatures she could feel slowly edging forwards once more without anything holding them back. A deep, threatening growl echoed strangely through the mist, the sound so darkly dangerous that it took a moment for Buffy to realise it had emerged from her own throat.

Something was happening to her, flesh seemed to ripple and flow and in her hazy state Buffy couldn't tell if the sensation was a hallucination or real. The lightning-fire coursed through her veins moulding her to a purpose. Drawing from the combination of her innate magic and inherited slayer power; making her into something that was both and more, something that could save her.

And then as quickly as it had started, it was over; the fierce flows of energies that had been crackling through her disappearing. Or not completely, they were still there flowing as before through her body, empowering every cell. She took deep breaths in and out, hearing a low snarl emerge from her as she rose to her feet. Taking in all the new messages her finely tuned senses were sending her; the sound of footsteps echoing on cobblestones, the vampires all about her, hunting in the vibrant city outside the magical wards.

_Chase_

Her first instinct had been to run through the gap she could feel in those boundaries, to meet her natural prey but her muscles, though poised to move, didn't run. With her night vision she could make out the shapes of a more dangerous foe. The one that had driven away all thought, broken down every barrier and given the slayer free reign.

The creatures had been driven back by the energies that had been released by her inner battle, but now they were returning, curious to see what had become of their prey.

_Hunt_

She ran at them, and whatever they had been doing before, whatever power they had to steal her hope, her will to continue, was gone. Or, at least, didn't seem to affect her in this mindless state, her human thoughts deeply buried by the thing she had become.

At first they barely seemed to notice her, unperturbed by her attacks. Soon they learnt to respect what she could do with sheer muscle. Soon they learnt to retreat.

_Slash_

The slayer chased after them like a cat amongst pigeons, taunting them, nipping at their heels. But the slayer wasn't a domesticated force; she didn't only play with her prey.

She tore at them, ripping off putrid limbs with a strong jaw and spitting out the bitter taste of decay. Clawing a mouldy heart from the chest of one, the deep buried part of her watching in horror as the rotten flesh liquefied before her eyes. It emitted a burst of pure misery as it collapsed in on itself, a feeling that hung on the air, surrounded her and drove what little remained of Buffy's human thoughts back into hiding, before dispersing into the gloomy night, leaving only a frayed cloak and a stale residue in her mouth as evidence of the defeated creature.

_Bite_

They swept away from her then, after seeing one of their own defeated, blending into the desolate mist they had created, disappearing into the more open streets of the main causeway. The slayer hunted them down; tracking them using their scent of putrefaction and the whisper of their cloaks as guides until she was distracted by a fizzle of extinguished power hitting her rear. These things were on the retreat, so she abandoned her trail and turned, snarling, intending to retaliate against her new attackers.

A green light came through the mist as she moved, hitting her left flank where it harmlessly diffused. She shook herself slightly, shedding the coloured sparks from her; all that remained of the spell. Sniffing the air their scent came up as human, not her prey. But not something that belonged here, now, in this wretched situation.

_Rip_

They would do better to leave this night for the monsters to play in. Those things had brought on an environment in which only beings of darkness could flourish, creatures designed to flit through shadows, to see when sightless; with sounds and the kiss of air against skin. At this moment Buffy felt as if she had been born just to exist in this hopeless darkness.

She approached them, easily dodging one spell but caught by a further flurry of red bursts, attacks cast in quick succession covering the area around her, giving no chance to evade. They lit up the air around her as those that missed passed by, throwing ominous shadows in the mist. The ones that touched her seemed to lose any power as they impacted, their purpose unfulfilled as the bright construct of the spell collapsed into fragments of light.

_Strike_

Though she could sense that they were human, the slayer wanted to retaliate; to fight back against those who would attempt to harm her. Buffy saw the two shadowy figures react in fear as she drew closer, an angry snarl rumbling down the street as they continued to cast, their spells slowing when it became clear how ineffectual they were against her. This was not the pair who had brought the nightmare like creatures here; their faces were openly displayed, betraying the depth of their fear, their righteous anger.

Buffy could sense their heightened emotions; the desire to stop her at any cost. But their feelings were dwarfed by the slayer's answering aggression, it's will to survive fuelling the need to defend itself against those who seek to harm her.

She couldn't let it happen, couldn't allow the slayer to attack these wizards who had unwittingly stumbled upon her in this state. What strength remained in her soul rose up. No longer suppressed by those now long gone creatures that had come so close to destroying her, she was stronger. Not repaired enough to defeat this strange power with the will of the slayer, but with the strength to divert it.

_Prey_

Buffy concentrated on her senses, on the one thing that might detract the slayer from these men who dared to attack her with their magic; she focussed on a far more interesting scent. It came on the light breeze which flowed through the narrow tunnel of Knockturn Alley; the dusty scent of blood and graves. The aroma of her true quarry.

The wizards were quickly forgotten, the slayer following her nose back down the dank alleyway, past the door drooping uselessly off its hinges, still hanging ajar, towards the gap in the magic which protected the area. She could see it, this void in the spell that enclosed them.

It was blocked in front by the illusion of a door, creating the impression that this was just another entrance to a building, not to the brick passage she could see behind, the two images overlaid flickering in and out of focus like a magic eye picture, reality contained within the deception. She approached the doorway cautiously, tasting strong magic on the air; unsure how it worked, what complex spells of protection might be tied into this magical gate.

_Seek_

Touching the barrier with trepidation, she had been prepared to leap back at any sign of a curse, but this magic, like that cast by the wizards in Diagon Alley, did nothing more than send a tingle through her. Power crackled over her skin as she passed through the magical door, the odd sensation of the energy flowing around her only stopping when she got through into the path to the outside world.

The odour hit her like a wall as she emerged onto the city streets, no longer a distant scent filtering through the cracks in the magic seal over Diagon Alley, but an overwhelming aroma of modern human existence. Beneath the exhaust was the smell she was looking for, the indication that vampires were abroad in the capital this night.

_Hunt_

Tonight the slayer would make up for all the times she had been forced back, denied the thrill of the hunt, the chase, the kill.

Tonight she roamed free. Her challenge resounded through the night air, cutting through the fog.

Tonight wasn't about secrecy, nothing could escape this hunt.

_Kill_

In a blur she was gone, racing through the streets into the starless night.

* * *

Dawn had long passed when Buffy awoke, the dappled morning sun through the trees casting tall shadows around her. Slowly she roused herself, her muscles tired from more exertion than even a slayer was used to, her soul still feeling battered. Using a lump of stone encased in vines as a support to help get upright, Buffy found herself face to face with the carved features of a stone angel. All about her were unnaturally shaped mounds of stone and foliage, shrouded pillars similar to the one she was leaning on topped with broken statues and crosses wreathed in both stone and living vines.

Buffy recognised the style of the place, though not the location; one of the Victorian graveyards that encircled London, dotted about the outskirts of the city to house its dead. She had visited a similar place during her first stay at the Leaky Cauldron at the end of the summer, but had quickly discovered that cemeteries were not the places to hunt for the newly undead in London. Most of the graveyards were long since filled, and cremation was in fashion; Buffy had found that vampires wanting to gather a following kept the bodies with them to ensure they managed to rise.

The mature trees in this cemetery displayed its age, huge monuments to the bodies left forgotten beneath their boughs. A testament to the time that had passed since those coffins had first been laid to rest, since someone had last been tasked to keep nature at bay; away from the fertile soil of the graves. Now places such as this served as a welcome escape from the vibrant city that surrounded them; pockets of tranquillity in which its residents sought peace. Somehow the world outside a cemetery walls never seemed to exist once you were inside; how could the actions of the living affect a place for the dead.

The dead that were still here.

Buffy could feel them now that she was fully awake, lurking somewhere amongst the gothic headstones was an entrance to a lair of vampires; no doubt the reason she had ended up in this place of long forgotten death. A lurch of fear flooded through her as the slayer sprung to life, readying for battle, but to her relief that was all that happened. She didn't feel that explosive well of power which had overwhelmed her the night before, that had taken over. Muffled footsteps and the sound of breaking twigs caused her to tense; the sensation of the undead nearby tainting her reactions with violence.

Buffy only just managed to duck out of sight in time, before an elderly couple on a stroll through the wooded park came into sight. It wouldn't do to be seen as she was, covered in the evidence of the previous night's activities, in blood and grime. She would justifiably send people running to the police, and the claim that most of the blood was her own wouldn't help without any of the wounds remaining. Buffy turned towards the location of the vampires with a new purpose, not in search of an opponent to vanquish but somewhere that she might, like her prey, pass the daylight hours unnoticed.

It didn't take long to find the small chapel, deserted and dangerously overgrown with a sapling sprouting up through its half collapsed roof. Inside the ornate stairs designed to access a family crypt, lead down to a hole had been opened in the wall, with a earthen path dug down into the darkness. As the sensation telling her there were vampires nearby grew stronger, the walls of the tunnel slowly changed from dirt to stone, finally opening up into a large underground room; the abandoned basement of some ancient building.

"… they're probably just holed up somewhere waiting for the sun to set." A calm voice echoed through the lair.

"I told you; He left the club with Michael and their dinner long before I did. They should have easily made it back in time."

Her sensitive eyes picked out the pair at the other end of the room, where flickering candles lit up a surprisingly homey space. The more agitated vampire was pacing up and down on a thick carpet; looking at the entrance every few steps with such intensity that Buffy thought for a moment that he had seen her.

"Perhaps He decided to go back for another." The voice floated up lazily from a makeshift sofa facing the far wall, a wooden frame covered in piles of cushions upon which the other vampire was lounging out of sight.

"Why would-"

Buffy had been moving closer as they spoke, her attention fixed upon the vampires ahead, so failed to notice an uneven stone in the intricately tiled floor. Both vampires jerked to attention at the scuffle of sound when she stumbled, looking out into the darkness, but the light that surrounded them prevented even their demonically enhanced vision showing them who had entered their home.

"Mike? Is that you? Where have-" He was startled into silence again, this time by the appearance of a stake in the heart of his companion. "Who's there? What's…" The nervous vampire trailed off as Buffy finally came into sight.

Normally the petite slayer didn't elicit much of a reaction from her prey, or not until she had proved her abilities. Normally Buffy wasn't particularly frightening to look at, a perception she deliberately nurtured, using her harmless appearance to gain an initial advantage during a fight. Normal wasn't something that anyone would use to describe her current appearance, caked in blood; eyes alight with the thrill of the kill. The fact that she had effortlessly slain his companion only added to the effect.

The vampire backed away in terror, eyes locked onto Buffy's, but then somehow managed to overcome his alarm, sprinting towards the corner of the hall where Buffy now saw another exit from the lair was located. She only just made it to the door as the vampire threw across the heavy iron bolts that held it shut, hitting him with a blow that sent him flying across the room. In a panic he scrambled with the catch on a chest that he had landed beside, managing to get it open as Buffy reached him; he turned to meet her with a relieved smile and a sword.

He attacked with a skill that was surprising given his seemingly young age, expertly stabbing at her without overreaching, without leaving himself open to counter attacks. Buffy backed away, dodging his blows as she assessed his style, the weaknesses in it. The vampire's smile widened when she stumbled around a table but the grin soon disappeared when his next thrust resulted not in further retreat, instead Buffy moved into the attack, using her bare hand to push the blade aside and sweeping the vampire's feet out with a kick.

The sword clattered to the ground as he fell and Buffy retrieved the blade, using its honed edge to quickly dispatch her opponent before he could react. With the vampires reduced to piles of dust on the floor, Buffy began to search through their possessions, finding several chests of clothing and, to her surprise and relief, some items for personal hygiene which allowed her to clean the blood and dirt from her skin. She felt better now, clothed in a men's shirt which hung loosely on her slim frame and some baggy jeans cinched at the waist with a belt, their far too long legs hacked off with the sword where they met the floor.

Even without a mirror, something she didn't bother to search for in a vampire lair, Buffy knew that the difference in her appearance was pronounced. Only her matted hair still showed the signs of violence which had been coating her entire body, the blonde strands laced with dark streaks of blood. Unable to do anything about that, she twisted it up into a knot on top of her head and covered it with the weather-beaten trilby she had found on one of the bed knobs.

Using the polished blade of the sword to check that there weren't any obvious marks left, she wistfully weighed the weapon in her hand before placing it carefully back in the chest it had come from. Buffy had spent too long training with Camilla to not appreciate the beauty of a finely crafted blade, only regretting that she couldn't bring it with her; walking through the British capital as she was would be conspicuous enough already without attempting to conceal a sword. Besides, she had access to weapons of a better calibre in the training room at Hogwarts. Camilla even let her use them now.

Shrugging on a coat designed far more for style than comfort, its previous owner having no need for the warmth thick clothing can provide, Buffy finally left the occupied end of the chamber, heading back towards cemetery. The park was livelier when she exited the chapel; parents taking advantage of the clear skies to take their children out, allowing them to use up some of their inexhaustible energy in the overgrown cemetery. She made her way to the path, ignoring the odd looks her clothes received.

With no way of knowing where she was in relation to the Leaky Cauldron, Buffy set off in an arbitrary direction, enjoying the easy quiet of the wooded graveyard. Even the children seemed to pick up the atmosphere of the place. Though they played, flitting between trees which in their minds had become a magical kingdom, they did not shout, did not laugh, their games ones of whispered secrets. The air held a weight of silence that affected even those too young to understand what the place represented. Despite all that had happened to get her here, she couldn't help but feel content amongst the overgrown graves, soaking in the warmth of the sun which couldn't quite disperse the winter chill.


	46. The Night Before

_**The Night Before**_

Entering the Leaky Cauldron dressed in oversized men's clothes was, luckily, not something many of the wizards who patronised the pub took much notice of; far less than the Muggles she had passed on her way there. Only Tom, having gained better knowledge of Muggle clothing in his years spent at this boundary between the worlds, gave Buffy a strange look as she made her way to the stairs leading up to her room.

She stared at the face in the mirror, finally able to properly see the after affects of the previous evening. Not that there were any. Despite the copious amounts of blood she had wiped from her face in the vampire lair, there were no wounds on her skin, no pale lines of scar tissue. Stripping, she looked down at her body her skin still betraying signs of battle; there were places where thick lines of clotted blood indicated there had once been a wound, scabs she had not needed to remove as they would be hidden beneath clothing.

Even the larger gashes felt healed beneath the grime, giving none of the usual indications that her body was still mending. Buffy picked up the sponge sitting beside the bowl on the dresser, filling the bowl she filled with warm water from the jug by it, she began to wash the dirt from her body. Ignoring the muck accumulating in the cold rinsing bowl she looked into the mirror, at the pristine skin being revealed.

Washing the remnants of the night away should have been cleansing, helping to purge the experience from her mind, but instead it did the opposite. As the traces of the night before were erased the memories began to clear, no longer broken, feral fragments of a dream-like experience; she remembered the thoughts, the desires that drove her to act the way she had. The recollections were terrifying; not in what she was doing, that she had anticipated, long understanding the vicious tendencies of the part of her that was the slayer. What scared Buffy was how easy it was to understand the thoughts, how natural they felt.

She had fought monsters for years now, but always with fists and weapons. At her most desperate Buffy had never considered ripping at them with teeth and nails; humans just weren't designed for that. But the thing she had become was, and it had relished in the ability to do so, in the feel of thick blood dripping down her chin. The night before, for the first time she believed what was said; the abyss had gazed back into her, revealing the monster she could become.

Buffy looked closely at the face in the mirror, trying to see the stranger in familiar features. To find something that had changed in the night, something to show that this wasn't really her. But there wasn't anything new in the hazel eyes looking back at her, no trace of cruelty in the expression. Her physical appearance was exactly as she had been the day before, completely unaffected by the experience. It was within that she had changed, that her entire perception of herself had been upended.

Was that who she was, what she wanted. Was she no better than the creatures who preyed on humans, thriving on the taste of blood, on the smell of fear. She remembered the desire to attack those wizards, to seek retribution for their useless attempts at harming her, the complete lack of remorse for the urge to kill beings she knew to be human. Last night she would have done it, without hesitation she would have stopped them from casting at her in the only way the slayer knew, with violence and pain.

The shops in the alleys only opened in the morning on Sundays, so the street was as empty when Buffy ventured out onto it as it had been the night before. In the daylight, without the mist of the previous evening obscuring her vision, the empty street was an entirely different place to behold. Even without taking into account the marked lack of the despair brought on by the creatures. Knockturn Alley itself was still an uninviting place, but after the previous evening the street's reputation hardly seemed to matter. Besides, there were unlikely to be many wizards about with the shops closed and there were things Buffy needed to see.

She nearly walked passed the door in question, the repair good enough to leave it almost indistinguishable from the shops either side. Only her memories of the previous evening, warped by her state of mind at the time, enabled her to locate the site of the break in. Touching the wood of the door where it had been shattered around the handle, Buffy felt a warmth flow from within the frame, the magic of a ward igniting to prevent access.

Had the entrance been as well warded the night before, she wondered, or was the current security a reaction to the break in? Buffy wasn't able to tell much more than the fact that there were defences there, but she could sense the strength of the magic used and these wards felt powerful, dangerous. If something comparable had been active when the masked wizards arrived, it had somehow been deactivated without raising alarm or damaging the surroundings. A wizard who could do such a thing would have to be skilled.

A quick look around confirmed that there wasn't anyone nearby to notice her interest in the shop. She didn't know whether the wizards had seen enough to identify her the night before, it had been dark and difficult to see through the fog, but if they hadn't she didn't want to give herself away. Buffy moved away from the door, peering through the dusty windows to find that _Pryce & Sons_ was a book shop, filled with long shelves of leather bound books.

The brief image from the previous evening of a heavy rectangular object being hidden within a robe suddenly made sense, they had stolen a book. Although why someone would go to so much trouble to steal something they could have easily bought, Buffy didn't know. It wasn't as if wizards with the ability to command such creatures could be short of resources. With the shop shut there wasn't much she was likely to find out here until the following day.

* * *

Sunday's Daily Prophet had barely mentioned any strange events in Diagon Alley, but Monday's paper was full of it. _Fairy Mischief at Solstice! _ The main headline announced, the subsequent article went into great detail about Sprite culture, reminding the readers that this particular race of fairies notoriously celebrated the occasion with tricks and jokes.

Sprites, the journalist explained, unlike most of the better known species of fairy, were nocturnal creatures, coming into the height of their magical ability on the longest night of the year. The clans would congregate to celebrate the occasion; these gatherings along with their heightened power often lead to their most elaborate pranks being played, each clan attempting to outdo the others.

As she read on it became clear that the Ministry were determined to not only blame the strange mist on solstice on these creatures, but to exact retribution from them for it. There were long discussions about the actions to be taken, restrictions to the movements of all the fairy races, and a self-important quote from the Minister about the importance of controlling lesser magical creatures.

"They sound stupid, making so much fuss about a little mist." Tom's gravelly tones drew Buffy's attention away from the article. She grinned at him when she saw what had caused him to come over, bringing her usual breakfast without waiting for an order. "Not that it's really the mist they're in a tizzy about."

"It's not?"

He set down her food, pulled out a chair at her table and collapsed into it. The few other guests had yet to make an appearance and it was too early for even the keenest shoppers to arrive, so Tom had time to chat.

"There was some kind of burst of magic in the alley on solstice, the improper use of magic team from the Aurors turned up to investigate it."

Buffy tried to hide the flash of understanding his words evoked by concentrating on her food. That must be who those wizards in the alley had been, that had come after she'd fought off the creatures. She controlled a shudder at the thought of what might have happened if she hadn't restrained herself. Attacking Aurors was not the way to maintain a low profile.

Glancing up at Tom, Buffy found that her self-control had been unnecessary. The man was practically bouncing with excitement, eager to tell the other half of the secret.

"The Aurors saw something that scared them, made them wait until the mist passed in the morning." He paused, excellent after years behind the bar at telling a story to get the best reactions "What they're really angry at the Sprites for is casting an illusion!" Tom grinned triumphantly, but his revelation didn't extract quite the response he was hoping for.

Instead of showing any shock, Buffy frowned, trying to figure out what had been mistaken for an illusion. It couldn't have been the creatures that had attacked her. There was no confusing them with a trick, and the masked wizards had seemed familiar enough with them that she doubted they were unknown to wizards in general "What was it?"

"What?" Tom asked, sounding rather disgruntled by her anticlimactic reaction.

"What did they see?"

He shrugged, "Some sort of big beast. There was a trainee Auror who got shaken up by what they saw and was quite chatty afterwards, well until his partner dragged him away from the firewhisky."

A beast in the alley, Buffy didn't believe that there could have been anything else there fitting that description. What didn't make sense was why they were calling it a trick, blaming it on fairy magic, instead of hunting it, her, down.

"Why do they think it wasn't real?" she wondered out loud, only realising after a sharp look from Tom how strange her wording was. Why would anyone think a massive beast appearing in the middle of an enclosed shopping district was real? Even in the magical world dangerous creatures in such a place was unheard of.

"Their spells had no effect – it had to be an illusion, and only the more powerful fairies have the ability to do something like that. That's how they know it must be the Sprites, their magic is made for deception and it was the solstice after all." He said, as if that explained everything. Had the wizards planning the theft known that on the night they chose to take action, any strange events would be so quickly explained away. They must have intended for fairies to take the blame, chancing to do this on the one night of the year when no suspicions would be roused was too much of a coincidence for Buffy to believe.

"I don't know how they expect anyone to believe that the Sprites only made a magical mist at solstice," Tom continued, oblivious to Buffy's thoughts, "a clan would be embarrassed to only be responsible for that, better to abide by the treaties."

"But what if it wasn't them? Can they really blame it on the Sprites without any evidence?" She had to ask, even if it then raised the question of just what had been in the Alley that night. If the beast wasn't a bit of fairy mischief.

"There's not really anything else it could be." Tom paused, and then chuckled when a thought struck him, "Though the Auror did originally say he'd seen a Grim. I suppose they might be immune to magic." He snorted at the idea, then shrugged it away, "Not that it matters; the Ministry is insisting that it was the little people."

"Did the Sprites do anything else?" Were the Ministry going to blame all the happenings of Solstice on fairies, Buffy wondered, and how would the theft be explained? It didn't really seem like something creatures known for complex practical jokes would do. She hadn't seen anything about the burglary in the paper, not that there had been information about an illusion either, so apparently that didn't mean much.

"Not that I've heard of, the Aurors that went out the next morning were pretty tight lipped. Once they figured out what was going on they all clammed up, the Ministry is keeping the illusion as quiet as possible"

"Why?" It seemed strange to Buffy that the Ministry would be hiding the one event that gave any substance to their claims.

Tom chuckled again, amused by Buffy's Muggle-born take on the situation "And there was me thinking it was my story-telling skills that were lacking, I forget how little you really know. They're hiding it for the same reason they're reacting so badly to it happening; nobody likes to be reminded that, even with our magic, we can be almost as easily deceived by the little people as a Muggle. Their magic is different enough from ours that we can't break their illusions, you see.

"No one's worried much about fairies for a long time. The power of the fairy races has always been in numbers. Alone they're an irritation at best, but when they gather in a swarm their combined strength can be awesome. There are stories, from when they weren't so rare, of them turning wizards on one another, making them die of fright at the images they can evoke."

Mid-chew, Buffy tried to portray enough interest in her expression so that he would continue. He shrugged, "Fairies have a dark sense of humour, and like to make mischief. Sprites are the worst of the lot, some say, though that might just be because they've more magic and more intelligence than most of the others. They especially like to trick wizards, although I don't know why; they get away with far more around Muggles. They might just be getting back at us. It's hard to tell if we treat them this way because they like to play tricks on us or if they play tricks on us because we treat them badly."

The slam of a door halted Tom's story, the two of them watching silently as the owner of _Quality Quidditch Supplies _hurried through the pub to the back, where he could get out into the shopping area.

Tom broke the silence with his hearty laugh when the man had gone, "Look at what you have me doing – telling tales. There's not been any risk from Sprites for centuries. There just aren't enough of them. Perhaps they could emit an illusion at Solstice, but the rest of the year they're pretty harmless. Useful to have about too – keeps the moth's down."

"There are some here?"

"Of course, how else do you think they got into the alley? Probably the largest remaining clan lives in the attics around here – the only swarm that could pull off something like this. I suppose they'll move out after this though, if they're not forced to." He stopped and the pair sat in silence, enjoying the quiet of the morning until a thought came to him, "Didn't you see anything? I thought I saw you go into the Alley the other night."

Buffy tried to hide the tension that question caused with a smile "The shops were all shut so I came back."

"That doesn't explain why you reappeared on Sunday in men's clothes." He chided her with a knowing grin on his face.

Buffy shrugged, giving him the cheeky grin she knew he expected "Someone I met in the city knew about a party so we all crashed it." On this visit to London, like her previous stay, she gave the barman tales of clubs and parties to explain away her night-time absences.

Other people were beginning to come into the pub, forcing Tom to finish their conversation with a final comment, "Must have been some party."

"Yeah, they're a rowdy bunch." Buffy responded as he stood, thinking back to just what she had been doing on the longest night of the year. "I don't think I'll see them again. That much fun… it destroys you."

* * *

Despite wearing her school robes in an attempt to blend in with the wizards who frequented Knockturn Alley, Buffy still stood out from the diverse patrons of the shops. Most of those in the alleyway were at least double her age, and many with their faces hidden beneath hoods, wearing cloaks which bore a sinister resemblance to those of the masked men she had encountered here. All seemed in a hurry, to get away from the notorious alley and any who might question them being here, quickly ducking into dark shops or slinking out into the contrasting brightness of Diagon Alley.

The book shop barely looked any more inviting than the previous afternoon, but the door gave way when she pushed upon it. A bell rang as the door opened, indicating her arrival, and Buffy stepped into the empty shop. One of the wizards seated behind the counter at the far end of the shop looked up at the sound but made no attempt to rise. She half heartedly browsed through the shelves of merchandise, filled with thick books on spells and potions which, though some were rare going by the prices, did not seem to warrant an elaborate theft.

Reaching the decision that there was no evidence to be found this way, Buffy approached the counter, trying to figure out how to ask what she wanted to know. In Sunnydale it had always been Giles who made any subtle enquiries, she had only interrogated those who would be intimidated by her calling.

The wizards didn't look up as she neared the desk, both engrossed in their current task. Behind the counter was a stack of books all betraying signs of mistreatment, with loose pages or broken spines, the shop's proprietors were each carefully fixing a volume.

Finally one of the pair looked up, frowning as he took in her appearance but greeting her cordially despite his surprise "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"What happened?" Buffy asked, adopting a light conversational tone "I heard you were broken into on…"

"Who said…" the other man, who up until this point had been pointedly ignoring her, interrupted Buffy sharply, glaring up at her with open suspicion. What looked like a swift kick under the counter prevented him from continuing his angry retort, diverting his glare to the man next to him.

Now that she could see their faces the family resemblance was notable, both with the same square jaw and hazel eyes. The first one to have spoken was visibly older, with flecks of grey amongst his dark hair and deeper lines upon his face, although the age difference didn't seem large enough for him to be the other's father; more likely they were brothers, the 'Sons' of _Pryce and Sons_.

"Just a friend, they saw your door being fixed yesterday."

The older brother's eyes flickered warily to his sibling, checking that he wasn't going to make another thoughtless response before plastering a emotionless smile onto his features and focussing on Buffy "Your friend must have been mistaken. We were upgrading our wards yesterday and so did some work on our door."

"Yes… that must be it." Buffy paused, unsure how to continue her questioning with them so unwilling to discuss what had happened. Her attention travelled over the counter, noting for the first time that it had recently been sanded down, the surface striped bare and smooth except for a few scratches near the centre, where the industrious pair were working.

The elder Pryce brother followed her gaze, frowning slightly when he saw where it was directed "Were you looking for a particular book, Miss"

"Not a specific book…" she trailed off, trying to think of a plausible reason for her to visit the shop "I've been researching the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy and how it affected wizard society in the 18th century."

Her pride at having thought of a good excuse diminished with the response, "We specialise in more practical books – spells and potions primarily." He shrugged dismissively, although some eagerness to be rid of her filtered through his facade of indifference "You'd probably have more luck trying _Flourish & Blotts_ for books on history and politics."

"But you have books on magical creatures." Buffy quickly injected before he could completely dismiss her "Is there anything you recommend from that era? I know that since Clause 75 some species have all but died out because of the constraints put upon them by wizards."

Any disappointment he felt was well hidden, but his younger companion was not so discrete. The tension causing his knife to slip, he exclaimed loudly, hurriedly pushing his chair back to prevent any blood marking his book.

"We do have some books on magical creatures." The remaining man continued, seemingly unaffected by his companion's mishap "You'll find them on the third bookcase on the right, third shelf. Most of these tomes concentrate on the use and care of beasts, but you may find some mention the events you're looking at." He gave her an empty, dismissive smile and returned his attention to his work.

As he spoke, his brother had returned to clear up the mess; carefully placing the book he had been working on to one side before casting a cleaning spell to remove the blood from the counter. The cover of the book caught Buffy's eye, swirls of mist surrounding a tall figure in a dark cloak, a figure that was sickeningly familiar, that she had seen for the first time just outside this door. Even as an image, without the ability to take her thoughts it filled her with dread. A gruesome hand was revealed as the thing flowed through the picture, the sight of rancid flesh giving her an almost tangible reminder of its taste.

Swallowing down the bile that rose at the memory, Buffy's curiosity quickly overcame her disgust. She picked up the book, interested in finding out more about the creatures she had faced.

"How much is this one?"

It was quickly snatched out of her hands "It's not for sale."

"I don't mind that it was messed up."

He sneered at her "That's not the issue. These books are part of our private collection."

The damaged books weren't for sale. That explained the theft to some degree; if the book taken hadn't been available to purchase. But why had it been so elaborate? What book was worth all that secrecy and why were these men denying it? Buffy tried to see what the other books were about, get an idea of what had been stolen. "What happened to them?" She asked again, not really expecting an answer but instead carefully watching the younger man, hoping that his reactions might betray something.

"That doesn't concern you." He snapped, his eyes alighting for a moment on the counter before warily flickering about the shop as if he expected someone to jump out from between the bookcases and attack him.

His companion looked up from his work in exasperation; painfully aware of just how obvious his brother was being in his attempts to hide what happened. "A bookcase fell over. The fall damaged some of the books." The empty smile was plastered back on his face, although the tension between the pair was thick, "While this copy is not for sale, I believe we have a later edition in the shop. Would you like me to find it for you?" He was already up, swiftly moving between the shelves to the area he had previously indicated as having books regarding magical creatures.

Buffy moved closer to the counter trying to find what it was that, more so than her interest, had set off the young man's fears. The faint groves in the wood were more like scorch marks than scratches, darkened lines that almost made up a picture; something that even sanding hadn't managed to erase. She squinted at it, trying to blend the fractured image together to form something whole; something that might tell her what was going on.

With a loud thump another book landed in the centre of the marks, she looked up fast enough to catch the man glowering at her as he sat sharply down and resumed his work. The other proprietor returned with a book and, with a swift politeness that made it difficult for Buffy to interrupt or delay, made the exchange and ushered her through the door, only the vigour with which it was closed behind her betraying his unease.

* * *

Outside, Buffy reflected on what little she had learnt from the shop's owners. The men knew that someone had broken in, but wanted to cover it up for some reason. Either they knew who the burglars were and were afraid of the masked wizards, or what had been stolen was something they couldn't admit to having. Or both, Buffy thought, remembering the strange groves in the newly sanded counter, their discomfort when she looked too closely at the books they were mending.

Could the marks have been a message of some sort? Buffy tried to picture the fragments of scorched wood, but the bits weren't arranged in a way that could be letters. Whatever reason the Pryces had for being secretive, it didn't seem likely that she could convince them to talk. Unfortunately Buffy couldn't see any other chance she had at figuring out what the events of solstice had been about.

Musing over the problem, Buffy barely paid any attention to the light drizzle that chilled her exposed skin or the people passing by, rushing to get out of the rain. She didn't notice how thin the crowds had become or the two large wizards in dark robes, their faces hidden within deep hoods, who took advantage of the empty street and her distracted state.

She stepped slightly to one side to make room when she saw the men approaching in her peripheral vision, but instead of moving around her the pair split, going either side of her. Each grabbed one of her arms in the same moment, quickly twisting them painfully back and then pulling her off her feet with their momentum. The force, trying to support her weight, jerked her shoulders backwards to an angle the joint was never intended to reach, every step they took sent a jolt of pain, tearing at her muscles as they dragged her into a slim side street, so thin it was almost unnoticeable between two shops.

"We've got you now" rasped one of the pair before they let go of her arms, allowing he to sag down onto the damp cobbles.

That voice. She had previously heard it through the fog of the slayer's thoughts. The whine which had emerged from behind that mask held confidence now, with the creatures long gone and their ambush giving them the advantage.

Buffy tried to get up, fight back, but she couldn't; her arms were useless for the moment, the damaged muscles unable to support her weight. The pain in her shoulders at the slightest movement causing her to gasp for breath. It was all she could do to cover her face as a booted foot approached.


	47. A Small World

_**A/N:- **Thank you to both my reviewers, General Mac and Tentrees for their comments. _

_This and the previous four chapters have not been edited by anyone other than myself. Unfortunately my beta's real life has made it impossible to find the time to look over this for me. I apologise for any errors included as a result of this. To my beta goes my heartfelt thanks for all the help you've given me so far and the hope that your life calms down soon._

_The final scene of the previous chapter has been edited slightly, the premise of it has not changed but I have added description to try and make the scene clearer._

_**A Small World**_

The wizards who had dragged her to this alley were grunting with the effort needed to cause blows which were barely heavy enough to leave a bruise on a slayer. Buffy waited, allowing the feeble attacks to rain down on her. With every second that ticked by, with every boot or fist that impacted upon her, the pain in Buffy's shoulders lessened; her powers working quickly to heal the torn muscles in her joints.

She flexed her biceps, allowing her shoulders to carry her weight for a moment before releasing, the movement something barely noticeable as her body rocked with the wizard's blows. It hurt, the damaged joints would likely be painful for a few hours, but the initial blinding agony had passed. Behind the arms which still shielded her face from her attackers, Buffy smiled.

When one of them lent down she moved, grabbing the fist which had been heading towards her back and pulling him over with it, sending him tumbling into his companion. In a movement that was fluid despite her winces, Buffy got up and ran for the exit, listening carefully for any muttered words which might indicate they had managed to untangle themselves.

There was a faint rustle of cloth, groans of someone moving but nothing yet to make her worry they had cast a spell, not until she felt something impact on her back, just above the waist. She was so close, and whatever had hit her hadn't hurt, didn't seem to be causing any harm. She took another two swift steps. As Buffy felt another light blow of something landing on her left calf, she became aware that whatever it was had stuck to her. Tendrils from the one on the back slithered around, wrapping up over her arms. Buffy tried to escape their grasp to no avail, strong fibres already trapping her arms against her sides.

By that point it was far too late.

Buffy looked down mid-stride to see lengths of what looked like thick red twine whipping out from a ball on her left leg before catching onto her right just below the knee and jerking the two limbs together. With her arms tightly bound there was nothing she could do to catch herself as she fell, only able to twist enough that the brunt of the shock was absorbed by her shoulder not her head as she crashed to the ground, skidding slightly with her forwards momentum.

The shoulder she had landed on throbbed; already aching from its previous treatment, it had now hit the cobblestones with Buffy's entire body weight behind it. The men's footsteps came closer and then hands grabbed her feet, dragging her back, away from the mouth of the alley. The drizzle had intensified to a sleety rain which was washing red tinged water away from her face. Added pain from her cheek as she cried out when her shoulder was knocked confirmed that her skid over the cobblestones had grazed her jaw.

She gritted her teeth against the pain in still sore muscles that were now holding her head up off the pavement, having to trust her clothing to protect the rest of her body from similar injuries. As she looked wide eyed out onto the relative open safety of Knockturn Alley she saw that a passer-by had paused at her cry. Buffy met his searching gaze with one of wide eyed terror, trying desperately to collect enough air to ask for assistance.

For a moment he had looked poised to help, taking half a step into the alley, but then what hope his interest gave her escaped her grasp; his shocked expression fixated, not on her but up above her. On the two men who, even as this bystander looked on, were pulling her deeper in to the darkness. Buffy watched the silhouette, framed by the sides of the alley, turn to march briskly on.

They dropped her legs and, without her body stretched oddly by the movement, she could gather enough air to yell. Which is what she did until another kick to her face, this time not something she could protect against with her arms tightly tied to her sides, silenced her. The other man did something that made the man who had kicked her chuckle with malicious laughter and then a wave of magic passed over the group.

A hand pushed her battered face into the watery street before a voice by her ear murmured, "Scream all you like, no one will hear you."

His voice echoed oddly, as if they were in a large empty room not outside, and the speaker laughed even harder at the sound, leaving behind the stench of his breath as he stood. Those echoes; some of them were in her head, her ears still ringing from the recent blow, but most were real. The familiar tang to the wave of magic which had engulfed them suddenly made sense to Buffy; a silencing charm.

With the realisation that there was no hope of calling for help Buffy tried harder to fight against her bindings, to free her hands and feet so that she could escape her attackers. Silently she cursed herself again for the relaxed state she had been in when they grabbed her as another wave of pain shot through the muscles of her shoulder blades before focussing on her bruised joint. It was hard to break the habits of her previous life, when daylight usually meant you were safe from harm. She should have remembered where she was instead of gifting them the element of surprise with her inattention.

More laughter echoed through the magically enclosed space as she writhed on the floor, trying to get loose. The ropes had been tight enough before being soaked by rain, but now that had added strength to the fibres which resisted all of Buffy's attempts to use sheer muscle to rip them apart.

"It looks like they'll hold." One stated with a grunt, pulling Buffy up with the ties so that they tightened uncomfortably about her arms before releasing her. She slumped to the ground unmoving, waiting to see what they intended and recharging before she tried again.

"Well… now that we won't be interrupted" the voice she had recognised took charge, "I think it's time you learn a bit about real wizards" He paced around her prone form before continuing, "What do you think we do first?"

She didn't hear a response until the leader of the pair chuckled and cracked his knuckles, "Perfect."

The expected pain did not come; instead there was a rustle and a sound something like falling sand before she felt something, something small crawling up inside her trousers. There was some slight scratching as it travelled over her skin, a faint annoyance at most, but then another one started up her leg and a third crawled up the back of her hand, tickling as it went.

Soon she was covered what felt like head to toe in these small scrambling creatures. She tried to stop them skittering over her, but any she caught as they moved within reach of her bound hands merely dissolved into grains of sand. And Buffy was able to watch as a pile of blue and black flecked granules which she had squashed into the ground with her face reformed into a spider before leaping into her hair.

"It really is so much fun to watch a mudblood squirm." The more vocal of the two men commented as her movement slowed, the creatures one by one loosing whatever power had animated them and becoming inert, before laughing again. "Perhaps we can see what else will make her writhe."

His voice was something Buffy was almost as relieved to hear as the other sound that came at the same time, for it covered up the telltale ripping of damp threads when the twine that held her arms gave way beneath her struggles. This time she didn't wait for the right moment, it had been mere chance that had hidden the first breaking of threads and the effort needed to complete her escape would be as obvious as the sound. With a yell of pain at the use of sore muscles, Buffy escaped from the clutches of the magical bindings.

Ignoring the last few spiders still crawling over her, she grabbed the ankle of one man, and with a sharp tug, sent him toppling off his feet, his head impacting with the walls of the alley on the way down. The other wizard managed to get far enough back before Buffy could disable him and was now backing up frantically while searching for something inside his heavy cloak.

"Not so funny now, is it?" Buffy commented in response to the groans of the man she had downed, working quickly on the twine around her legs while keeping an eye on her attackers. She smiled, letting some of the slayer shine through in the expression, the slayer that had risen up within her, demanding retribution "Just wait until I get out of these"

She was worried by the rising slayer power, echoed by her magic as both gave her the boosts needed to release her legs. Buffy could feel the powers sliding over one another, so much closer than they had blended before but still distinct, unable to cross the barrier of their differences. Would they stay like this, together but apart enough to not form the strange combination which had so altered her, her perception of herself? Or would that last remaining block standing between them be removed if the powers rose strong enough within her, evaporating under the intensity of the fire and lightning that raged either side, allowing them to join as one. Allowing the slayer to take over and exact her revenge.

Should she even be concerned about the possibility when it might be the one thing that could save her now, from the malicious attentions of these two wizards? But regardless of whether it would be a help or a hindrance, that odd place where she had been trapped within a mind that cared only about survival was not one she wished to return to. Right or wrong, Buffy feared what she had become, the things she could do.

Without removing her main attention from her task of getting free, Buffy used one hand to knock aside a red ball that was flying towards her torso. Instead it hit the nearby wall, exploding into a cluster of trailing threads which grew over the brickwork like ivy, stretching out to a diameter of about ten meters before giving up its attempts to capture the wall and dropping limply to the ground.

"How did…" The wizard still standing asked, staring at the girl, she hadn't even turned her head away from her bound legs. Suddenly she moved her attention and that terrifying smile was focussed entirely on him, on the hidden face deep within the hood. There was only one thing that satisfied grin could mean; she was free.

Buffy walked slowly towards the man, trying to make out what his hands were doing within the cloak, but was distracted by the figure on the ground lunging at her legs, trying to topple her using her own manoeuvre. They might have managed to control her physically before, when she had been completely unprepared for attack and quickly forced it into a helpless position, but now she was ready and they had no chance of dominating a slayer.

Distracted by the need to disable the man grabbing at her, she didn't bother to impede the flight of a small white object which she could tell was going to miss her, hitting the cobblestones near her feet. As soon as it landed a thick yellow mist began to diffuse from the spot, filling the air too quickly for Buffy to stop herself from breathing it in.

She faintly heard someone yell, "Get back" and was aware that the man she had been fighting was now being pulled away from her, but none of that was something she could do anything about. Not when she was back on the floor arms tight around her jerkily clenching stomach, tears streaming down her face and mouth open in a silent cry. The gas trapped her, compelled her.

"I thought you said they would hold her?" she vaguely heard the leader ask through the cloud inhaling the gas had cast over her mind. The other man, who it seemed had also breathed in some of the gas, tried to voice a response but was unable to speak, causing his companion to growl in annoyance, "And you didn't even try to stop her running! Can no one in your family do something right? No wonder it was my dad picked to…"

As the man spoke, the sound of the other gasping for breaths slowly decreased to a stop and through her own gradually lessening affects of the gas, Buffy heard the movements which halted the rant.

"Where do you think you're going?" Through the remains of the tears Buffy saw the man stumbled, as he was pulled back from his attempt to move forwards. "The hysterical haze isn't all gone yet."

The gas might not have gone, but its debilitative effect on Buffy was; she knocked another phial of the gas, which had been ready in his hand, far down the alley, where it harmlessly burst into a yellow cloud. Annoyed by the hidden movements beneath their thick cloaks which had resulted in all her troubles, Buffy grabbed onto their fastenings and ripped them off, dropping the heavy cloth to the ground, but ignoring the stuffed paper bags which fell with them.

Far more interesting were the faces now revealed from beneath the hoods.

With everything that had happened in the mean time, her encounter with two Slytherin boys had long slipped from the forefront of Buffy's mind. Unfortunately the perpetrators of that attempted assault, and eventual victims of their own actions, had not been similarly distracted and had apparently spent the last two months carefully nursing their grievances.

Taking advantage of her surprise at their identity, Crabbe reached for his wand, steadily pointing it at her with a grim face.

"Vin! Don't, you know we can't…"

"Shut up." Crabbe snapped, causing his thuggish friend to do just that, never removing his eyes from Buffy. "So," he sneered in that voice Buffy still associated with a misty night of dark memories "does the mudblood know how to play with wands, or is she just pretending to be a witch?"

He was watching her warily, expectantly, neither of the pair moving from where they were seated on the floor. It couldn't have been him on Solstice could it? The wizard then, though wary had seemed older, more sure of himself; had held himself in a proud manner despite his snivelling complaints about their guards.

"Come on…" he goaded, breaking into her thoughts, "I'll even give you a hex for free."

The ironic thing was that she hadn't considered using her wand, her magic, hadn't even got it with her. It was safely stored back at the Leaky Cauldron in the top drawer of her bedside table. Buffy hadn't seen the point in carrying something about which she wasn't permitted to use. And that was no doubt the reason for Crabbe's crude taunting; hoping to get her into trouble for underage magic use, now that the pair didn't have the joke shop tricks, currently scattered over the alley, to assist them.

Buffy's internal debates over how to proceed, on what she could do to satisfy the slayer's demands for retribution, were interrupted by the sound of footsteps entering into their bubble of silence. She looked up to find that the newcomer had not appeared from the entrance onto Knockturn Alley. The man had come from further down the narrow street, where on closer inspection what had seemed to be a dead end revealed itself to be a sharp corner which could only lead towards Diagon Alley.

"Please tell me you haven't used those" A sharp voice bit out of the shadows, and the man stepped forward to reveal that the Head of Slytherin House had once again arrived at the moment before Buffy unleashed her anger on his charges. At the blank looks his comment received, Snape gestured towards the wands in the Slytherin boy's hands.

Goyle looked at Crabbe's wand, still pointed with intent at Buffy, before lowering his own and beginning to stutter his excuses.

"This is not something I expected to interrupt again." Snape growled at the boys, not allowing them to form words, "I would have thought you might exact your revenge in a less public place than your previous encounter, not one where you are even more likely to be discovered"

"Bu… But we…" Goyle stuttered, still too shocked by the appearance of his head of house to form a sentence.

Crabbe on the other hand recovered far quicker. Buffy watched him stare at his now lowered wand before looking up, focussing eyes now filled with cruel intent on her, "She attacked us!"

"Why would I believe she had done something like that?" Snape drawled, looking them up and down. Though battered, their state was nothing in comparison to the dirt and grazes which marred Buffy's appearance, "Especially since she has proven before how capable she is of defeating you."

"We were only defending ourselves! She was hexing us!" Now that he had fixed on an excuse the boy seemed intent to follow it through in the hopes of escaping blame.

"Desist your wining; it sounds just like your father."

He really did, Buffy realised as the connection between these students and the wizards she had seen in the act of breaking and entering became clear.

Crabbe completely ignored the insult to himself, but rounded angrily on Snape in defence of his father, "You don't want to talk about him like that; you don't know the things he's been…"

"Oh I know exactly what he's been doing," the professor drawled, "did you think he had been trusted with a task which required more than an errand boy? Even that he barely managed, his ineptitude nearly ruining the entire plan." He looked over the injuries all three had sustained again, smirking at the boys, "I hear he finds little girls hard to control as well. Except he did the smart thing and ran away before he could get hurt."

"He didn't run away." Crabbe muttered annoyed at the distain with which Snape spoke about his father "They'd already completed the mission."

The Professor didn't only know of the men from the previous night by association, because they were parents of his students. It quickly became clear as the pair spoke that he knew what Crabbe's father had been doing, knew that a girl had interrupted them. A shiver of fear passed through her, what had happened wasn't just about those two wizards.

"Get up." Snape snarled, glaring unflinchingly as they rose, Goyle whimpered in pain when he put his full weight on an injured foot, earning himself a sneer, "How did you let her do this to you?" he asked condescendingly with a bitter laugh.

"I told you she…" Crabbe started before being cut off.

"Have the sense to realise when a question is rhetorical. I have no desire to hear anything more you have to say." Finally he looked at Buffy, "Hand over your wand, please."

Buffy glanced at the Slytherin boys, enjoying letting them squirm in the knowledge that her wand wouldn't back up their story before answering, "I don't have it."

"You don't…" Snape trailed off, perplexed by her response.

"It's in my room at the Leaky Cauldron, I can go and get it if you'd like." Buffy cheerily commented; keen to do anything that might get her away from this place, this man who was in league with those wizards, those creatures. Buffy was turning to leave when he cast at her.

"Accio wand"

A wave of magic passed over her, pulling at her robes and the clothes beneath them, searching for something that wasn't there.

"I told you, it's not here." Buffy said mildly, holding back the anger she felt.

"She's lying… nobody would…" Crabbe stuttered as Snape turned back towards him.

"I don't think that she's the one trying to deceive me."

The boys cowered before their Head of House as he faced them, wand still drawn and eyes flashing dangerously. They flinched back when he moved his wand towards them, but he merely rattled off a number of healing spells. The scratches and bruises on their faces vanished before Buffy's eyes and Goyle let out a sigh as he was finally able to stand on both feet. After a moments pause he turned his wand onto Buffy as well, fixing the visible damage on her face.

"Now get out of my sight." Snape snapped "I'm not going to waste my holiday deciding your punishment, i_which there will be/i_." The pair, who had perked up at his dismissal, presuming to have gotten away unpunished lost their smiles completely when he concluded, "Report to my office as soon as you arrive on the 5th."

Goyle grabbed onto Crabbe before he could say anything that might anger the man and dragged him out of the alley, despite protestations that they needed to gather the items they had dropped on the floor.

Their mention of the joke shop products littering the alley reminded Buffy of her own purchase, something that had been quickly forgotten when she had been grabbed. Looking about, she spotted her book near the mouth of the alley. As Buffy checked to see if it had been damaged by the rain she heard the Potions Master move behind her.

"What were you doing here?"

Buffy rose from her position, crouched to pick up the book, and turned to face the man, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Where and how I spend my time is not your concern."

She almost smiled at the sharp response, "Exactly – what I do outside school is none of your business. I am an adult according to your rules, after all." The look of displeasure grew on his face until Buffy decided to relent. It would easier to just tell him than put up with the result of her insolence in lessons, "But, since you're so interested – I was out shopping" She waved her book at him half heartedly and indicated to the packages he was carrying, "as, it seems, were you."

He scowled at the thing being waved beneath his hooked nose before grabbing it from her hands and looking intently at the title.

"Why are you buying books on Dementors?"

That name, it sparked a memory of the solstice, of masked wizard's complaints, but also something Padma had mentioned to her. About their third year when the custodians of the wizard prison had come to guard the school, intent in their hunt for a known criminal who had escaped. She remembered the way her peers had shuddered at the thought of the things and gone silent, reacting stronger than they had when talking about the evil wizard. This was something dark they had met, had experienced for themselves, not a tale of atrocities which had taken place long before anything they remembered.

What fragments she had been told about the wardens of the prison suddenly made sense, the cold, unhappy feeling which her friends had been unwilling to explain. She understood a desire to put all thoughts of what those creatures did from your head.

Buffy shrugged, "It's not like I'm going to learn anything sensible about DADA at school."

His expression became slightly less intent at that, unable to hide his agreement, but refusing to be distracted from his questions, "Why don't you have your wand?"

"Why should I?" It took a considerable amount of effort to control the smile which threatened to emerge at his baffled expression; it wasn't something she had seen on his face before, nor expected to again, "I'm not allowed to use it, so there's no point carrying it around when I might break it or something, is there?"

"You're allowed to use it in an emergency."

"So if I'd had it with me and defended myself with magic you wouldn't have believed them?" Buffy didn't even bother to leave the time he would have needed to respond, "You wouldn't have decided I attacked first and gotten me sent to that nifty wizard prison you have these things guarding?" She punctuated the statement by taking back her book and displaying the, now slightly soggy, picture of a Dementor.

"You weren't in any real…"

"You think being abducted, beaten and tied up is nothing?" Buffy interrupted, no longer able to care if her actions now affected her treatment at school. She gestured to the red ropes still lying sodden on the ground "It's a good thing I don't need magic to save myself, huh?"

Before he could make a response Buffy marched away from the alley. The professor had in some way been a party to the theft, to those creatures coming to the main shopping area of the wizarding world. Knowing that he had some knowledge of the event, could even perhaps of stopped it fuelled her anger, sending her flying through the streets, intent only on getting back to the inn.

Buffy felt eyes upon her and paused to find a crowd made up of two families waiting outside the ice cream shop. The eyes she had felt belonged to her attacker, but Crabbe quickly looked away from her to a witch, no doubt his mother, who was fawning worriedly over him, concerned by a rip in his robe. Behind him a man whose strong resemblance to the boy could only make him his father looked about idly, bored by his wife's mothering. His gaze was moving towards Buffy and she jumped back into motion, moving away from the chance of discovery.

* * *

Hours later she was still feeling jittery, a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration fuelled by the adrenaline flowing through her, and exhaustion caused by her body's need to heal injuries that every movement still reminded her of. She needed to rid herself of this energy, to get out into the city and slay, but there was nothing she could do until sunset, and even with the early winter nights that was still hours away.

Someone came into the pub from the Diagon Alley entrance and Buffy looked up, wary about encountering any of the Crabbe family again. It wasn't them, but the man who stalked into the room was also high on her list of people she didn't want to see. The Potion's Master looked about, glowering as he noticed her and, when he failed to find what he was looking for, disappeared with a crack.

"He's almost as interested in the fairies as you were." Buffy jumped slightly when Tom spoke, her gaze still on the empty space which a man had just occupied.

"Huh?"

"Professor Snape." Tom clarified, "He was very interested in what happened on solstice, asking if anyone had heard or seen something strange."

The bartender put down the drink he had been bringing over and moved on, wiping down the used tables before returning to his bar to serve a wizard in a garish yellow and green outfit.

Snape was interested in what had happened that night, in the illusion no doubt; the one thing which gave the Ministry proof that fairies had been involved. Did he know more than the Aurors, he seemed to know about the theft and so had no doubt heard about the Dementors. He knew that the mist and discontent on solstice was not caused by sprites, and so might suspect that the rest wasn't either.

What had those creatures told their masters after they fled from her, what had they thought about her killing one of their kind? Did the masked wizards, Crabbe's father, now know about a girl who turned into a beast and ripped them to pieces? Had they infiltrated as they seemed to have the school, finding out about the creature that didn't react to spells?

Buffy gulped down some Butterbeer, unable to appreciate the warmth it brought; she was chilled to the bone by her thoughts.

* * *

"Neville!"

Buffy watched with a grin as the boy jumped in reaction to her yelled greeting, a bright slip of paper slipping from his grasp. She jogged slightly to catch up with him, but at the look of sheer terror on his face when he noticed the loss, sped up to capture the item which was escaping on the breeze.

Walking back to the boy with what turned out to be the wrapping from a sweet safely in her hand, Buffy cheerfully wished her friend a Merry Christmas. When she reached him she handed back what had nearly been lost to the boy who took it back with a desperation that seemed strange considering its worth.

"Thanks. My mum gave it to me…" Neville explained with a blush and a stutter, "She's, uh, not very well. I just… it's nice to have something from her. Even if it doesn't really mean anything."

Buffy smiled reassuringly at the boy, "I know what you mean, I kept a scrappy piece of paper just because it had a note from my Mom on it…" The smile turned slightly bitter at the reminder of just why she had needed to keep it, why she had left and needed to treasure a piece of rubbish discovered at the bottom of her bag.

"You have a note from your real mum?" Neville's eyes lit up, encouraged by the idea that Buffy understood why he held onto something, anything from his mother.

"No… not her; my adopted Mom. It was only a silly thing – saying she'd be late at work, that there was lasagne in the fridge." She smiled, remembering how glad she had been that it had been safely stored in her wallet when the American Wizards took her.

"Do you have anything from your parents? I mean your…" Neville paused, noticing Buffy's reaction to the question and continued in a much more reserved tone, his entire demeanour shrinking back, "Sorry, I shouldn't… you probably don't want to talk about it."

There was no way Buffy could say the cutting remark which had jumped to the tip of her tongue to this boy, not when he had looked at her so hopefully, a sweet wrapper clutched firmly in one hand. Especially not after seeing how defeated he became when he noticed how uncomfortable the conversation was making her.

"It's okay Neville, I just, I don't really think about them as my parents, you know?" Buffy smiled sadly, "I've always known that I was adopted, but that didn't make Hank any less my Dad, or stop Joyce being my Mom." She hesitated, not sure if she wanted to continue but knowing she needed to, not just for this boy, to whom the trust granted by the conversation meant so much, but also for herself. Buffy needed this to stop being something she kept wrapped around her, to rip off the bandage and share her pain.

"I didn't know much about my real parents until I was about your age, when I went to discover more about why I was put up for adoption." Buffy took a deep breath, readying herself for the next words, "I found out that I had been abandoned. All I was left with was a partially completed Birth Certificate and a Gringot's key." She couldn't even look at him for a moment, her own reaction to speaking those words out loud so intense that she couldn't cope with seeing someone else's.

When she did look up there were tears in his eyes. Neville stared at her for a moment before grabbing her, pulling her forwards into a fierce hug through which he tried to convey his affection for her, his understanding, as best as anyone can, of her pain.

They didn't say much more, Neville rewarding her trust with his own. Explaining briefly that his mother didn't remember anything much, how she lived in hospital along with his father. Few words were spoken, but the silences between them meant so much more than words ever could.

_Well Christmas is finally getting close to over... and a lot has happened over the holidays. Time to see how it all affects day to day life when we return to Hogwarts. Find out in the next chapter of... Key to the Past_

_And I thought the last chapter was long... this has beaten it by over 500 words. I might not be able to keep up my average updating of once a fortnight if this continues._

_Premise:_

_- A happy writer is a productive writer_

_- Ideas feed the muse_

_- Reviews make writers happy (even those with criticism... as long as it's constructive anyway)_

_- Comments give ideas_

_(do you see where the conclusion might lead?)_


	48. Great Escapes

I'm back, Huzzah! (um… don't ask). So… thanks to everyone who reviewed… and sorry for the long wait… I'm kinda embarrassed to admit that I didn't realise this wasn't posted here. On the plus side it means you'll get the next chapter really soon as I'm giving up on getting it into a state where I'm actually happy with it… my aim is something close to content. Which, speaking of, I'm still not entirely with this chapter… despite posting it months ago on tth I've still been fiddling with it to try and make it better… which is perhaps why I somehow managed to not put it here. Anyway... onto review replies...

enchantedlight, General Mac, Lanna-Nailo, Sinangeled - thanks! sorry for the wait

BerMH - trying to drive you insane huh? Well… it would be nice to have some company. The questions…. will be answered eventually.

Rebecca Pierson - Ironically enough, this chapter was already mapped out and mostly written when you wrote your review… I hope it helps ease your curiosity.

The Statue - Wow, just… wow… your review was so much fun to read (and re-read just now), I hope my response wasn't too rambling.

Meow - Thanks =D

FaithDeanLove - I think it helps Buffy that they have no reason to contemplate her being what she is… more interactions with the Gryffindors will come.

Greytune - sorry about the short chapters (and even longer gaps between updates), the coming chapters have, unfortunately, been a pain to write. On a plus side, this is the longest chapter so far.

jollyolly94 - more about camilla will come. She is fun =D

So... here it is... I hope you enjoy it. Even though I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with this chapter (and it feels like a relationship with the amount of time I've spent with it) I think there's some good bits in here.

**_Great Escapes_**

"I hope you realise the position this has placed me in." the cold voice evenly intoned, not needing volume to add emphasis to his audible anger. This man held the attention of those about him without having to shout.

"I'm sorry…" the only person foolish enough to respond spluttered.

There were over a dozen of them in all, men in heavy dark robes kneeling before the chair, before their master. From the edges of the chamber narrow strips of daylight framed windows covered by heavy curtains, leaving the room in an ethereal half-light. Only the centre of the room was clearly lit, two branches of candles on tall stands bathed the group in a pool of light from either side of a dark, dust-stained armchair. Despite this light, the man in the chair remained in darkness, its positioning combined with his dark clothing leaving him shrouded by shadows, features blurred with only intense eyes clearly visible.

The man in the chair acted as if the interruption hadn't occurred, his high, cruel tone cutting through the apologies, "I had only just managed to convince them that their interests would be better served assisting us and now," he paused for emphasis, using the time to make eye contact with one of the men who kneeled before him, a scholarly looking wizard who met his gaze without flinching.

"We didn't mean…" the man who had made the previous interruption, positioned besides the one being addressed, fell to the floor, cowering before his master.

A slight sneer was the only indication that the apology had been heard, as the original speaker continued, "now one of their number is dead. They have long been limited by how many more of their kind they are permitted to make and now to lose one, something they haven't experienced since they were first given Azkaban to police…" He bit out the words distastefully, "The Dementors are not happy; they are demanding a sacrifice as penance."

A fearful wail emerged from the grovelling man, causing his other neighbour to grab his face and hiss a warning into the startled expression, "Silence, you fool."

Their leader paid this no heed, maintaining his focus on the man who was to blame for his anger, not the one needlessly prostrating himself before him, "You knew that now is when we need their cooperation the most, and yet you allowed this to happen." He rested a hand so thin, so white it seemed skeletal on the arm of the chair, where the light revealed the wand contained within.

The man almost managed to hide the fear that sight caused, but a groan of rusted metal from the darkest corner of the room startled him, causing a tremble that betrayed him. A satisfied smile at the man's reaction hovered on pale lips, containing no joy, but a malicious promise that caused fear to fully darken the man's gaze, his attention flicking to the wand.

"Ah, Snape, I was wondering when you would get here." He finally turned away from the doomed man as another entered the room in a flurry of movement, the door to the chamber groaning once again as it swung shut.

The man's proud posture slumped as his master turned away, finally able to relax away from the harsh scrutiny. He would be punished, all those in the room knew it was coming, but this had granted him a slight reprieve.

The tall, cloaked figure swept forwards, sinking gracefully onto one knee before his leader, kissing his robes before moving back to join the group, "My apologies, My Lord, I was…"

The pleasantries were quickly interrupted, "We all know the duties that delayed your arrival. Does _he_ know any more than the Aurors on this matter?"

Snape bowed his head as he responded, "I discretely asked around Diagon Alley, but no one there knows any more than the Aurors. They are both certain that the illusion was the work of sprites. There has been no trace of anyone entering or leaving the Alley after the Aurors arrived and the Ministry did not pick up the magic creating the illusion. As they did not investigate further at the time, it is hard to be certain what happened."

Snape's demonstration of subservience should have eased his ire but instead the contrast to the other's actions caused his anger to rise. They were still respectful, still somewhat cowed by the power of their leader, his sheer charisma, but they had lost the awe with which they used to view him. When he had last led these men most of them had been boys, still coming into their own power and utterly amazed by his. Then, certain of his supremacy, they would never have dared to speak in front of him without a direct question, much less joke before him, as they did now, about Aurors cowardice.

Now, with that feat less immediate in their minds they had forgotten that the resources they used, the people who answered to them, were merely fragments of those he had commanded thirteen years earlier, salvaged in the aftermath of his disappearance. Acted as if they were granting him favours by fulfilling their duties, thought of people who had once been his to call on as their own. A further reminder of their place was long overdue.

"He has invited the displaced sprites to live in the Forbidden Forest," Snape continued his report diligently, having caught the sneer with which their master was viewing those before him, "and so may be hoping to learn more from them, although they continue to deny the charges. The Pryce brothers, at least, have the sense to remain silent, and so there has been no suggestion of our involvement."

"My Lord, if the fairy races are able to…" Another of those collected had picked up on their leader's displeasure and hoped to escape the coming storm by using his initiative, failing to realise that it was these displays of irreverence which caused his anger.

"If you had been paying attention, you would know I have already sent emissaries to the larger clans. They may prove to be useful allies if we are able to convince them to fight the Ministry." He spared a dismissive glance for his spy, "Thank you Snape. That will be all."

"I can remain, my Lord, I am not expected…"

The anger, ever close to the surface rose once more; of all his followers, this man was usually the one most careful to avoid his ire, to show respect. "Return to the school Snape, and await further orders."

"Yes, my Lord." Snape stood up smoothly, his body as closely controlled as the mind within it, and bowed regally before disappearing with a muted crack.

"Avery?" He lent forward slightly, the warm candlelight appearing strange on skin so pale.

"Everything he says agrees with what I've found."

"Very well. Is everything else prepared?"

"Yes, My Lord, they are still angry," Avery glanced along the row of kneeling men to the one who had drawn his master's earlier attention, "but they were… appreciative of your promised payment."

"Proceed as planned." He fixed his lieutenant with a piercing stare filled with warning, enjoying the shiver it caused, "I will not tolerate failure in this."

"Yes, my Lord"

Satisfied that the message had been received, he dismissed the man to go about his tasks, and returned his focus to the one who had already failed in his, "Now, Fawcett, please tell me you have discovered something that makes up for the less than beneficial outcomes of your excursion."

"I haven't… I need more time… It is written in a coded form of old…"

No one in the chamber had any doubt of the reason behind the wicked smirk which appeared as the man stuttered, the time spent waiting for punishment only serving to heighten his apprehension. A bone thin hand lifted from the arm of the chair, pointing the slim wand at the man, "_cru-_"

* * *

Buffy was shopping when it happened, just about to take a break from the shops to sit in the crisp morning sunshine outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where magically warmed seats ensured that customers were ready for ice cream any time of year. Then the wave of energy passed over her, chilling her to the bone. Suddenly her veins were alive with adrenaline, every instinct preparing her to fight.

* * *

Halfway around the world a girl woke from a sleep that had just been edging towards deep, only having returned to her bed an hour before. She reached for the weapon on her bedside table, seeking strength in the tapered wood that had saved her so many times in the months since she had been called as a slayer.

The dream… she was certain that the details were important but they were as difficult to hold onto as droplets of rain, running together into a murky pool of pain, leaving only a persistent feeling that something was happening. That there was somewhere she needed to be.

Despite her exhaustion earlier in the evening when she had collapsed into her bed after a night patrolling the town, she felt invigorated, more ready for battle than she had ever been before. Pulling on the clothes from the day before, she headed towards the door, stumbling slightly as she attempted to pull on her trousers one-handed while hitting speed dial on the phone.

Two rings later she was halfway down the stairs, shrugging on a light jacket, when the phone was answered. She held it between her ear and shoulder so that she could listen to the complaints at being woken while rummaging in the cupboard under the stairs, smiling in satisfaction when she withdrew a double edged sword.

"I dunno, but it feels big. Don't you want to come _watch _the party?"

* * *

The cries had started to echo through the chamber before the spell had completed and came, not from the man cringing before their master, but from another. From a man positioned on the edge, separate from the main group.

The reason for this may have been that he was less well kept than the others, straggly hair visible beneath his faded hood, those at the peak of the wizarding social tree keeping a discrete distance from one who belonged near the bottom. Whatever the cause of his placement on the outskirts, any semblance of unity provided by his presence beside the group was shattered by his howl.

The rest of the men scrambled away from the feral noise, backing up until they reached the far side of the room, closely monitoring the form which had done little besides calling out and slumping to the floor in pain. Another wail echoed through the space as strong hands emerged from beneath the old cloak to scramble for purchase on the floor, the flesh seeming to move independent of the bones it covered.

* * *

The energy which had passed over her strengthened the part of her which she had once hated and now feared. The part that had taken her over. The invigorated slayer powers, strengthening them to a degree she hadn't felt since leaving Sunnydale, and sent them reaching for the other that dwelled within, leaving Buffy desperately exerting what little control she could, pulling the blazing fire away from the lightning. Halting the feeling of them blending, something which had become familiar after constant repetitions in her dreams.

Once the forces raging within her had mellowed to leave her on high alert she turned, looking at the spot that the rush of familiar energy had come from, where she now knew the full moon was hiding below the western horizon. She could feel the pull, to go to the place where hell and earth merged into something which was neither and yet both. It wasn't a call she could answer, trapped as she was on the other side of the globe to where she knew her friends, family would be fighting whatever was strong enough to send these ripples so far.

All Buffy could do was trust in the new Slayer, that she would be able to defeat what was coming.

* * *

A werewolf in its transformed shape is difficult to control magically, requiring the combined efforts of many casters to subdue such a creature. This wasn't an ordinary werewolf, nothing about it resembling a wolf close enough to require the shape of the snout or tufts on its tail to identify it as something more than a wild animal, it was a hellish creature powered not only by the suppressed energies within but those from the Hellmouth which had triggered this daytime change.

Before those gathered could collect themselves enough to ward off the beast now snarling as it approached, breathing in their fear, the only man who had remained unmoved acted, rising from his chair and throwing the creature across the room with a flick of the wrist. The werewolf shook off the impact, scrambling on to its clawed limbs and attempting to retaliate. Before it could move far it was caught again by its master's magic, trapped in a single red beam.

A single stunning spell, from the wand of one of the most powerful wizards alive subdued the werewolf, leaving the chamber silent save for the echoes made by the creature's collapse. This demonstration of power, the ease with which their leader had made the beast submit to his will had a stronger affect on his followers than any display of his callousness. Reminding them just why they had bound their futures to his so long ago, not merely following his promises of a future they all desired but allying themselves to this power. To the strength still contained within the new, deceptively frail shell.

Prostrating themselves before their leader, they didn't worry why the werewolf had changed, or what it had changed into, but the man they bowed to thought only of that. Of how such a thing could be achieved, mimicking the moon's ability to draw out the beast, of who could understand ancient rituals well enough to create such backlash, what the purpose of the spell had been.

The expectant, apprehensive expressions on his follower's faces reminded him of his purpose before all this. The interruption had become a good example of why they should respect his power, of how far he outclassed them, but a reminder of the consequences of failure, of disrespect was also needed. He flicked his wand towards the man with a curse on his lips.

* * *

In another secret location, hidden amongst the sprawl of Muggle London, a boy gasped in agony, biting back the scream that wanted to escape. Luckily he had been going to his room, for what he now couldn't say; but it was a relief to get out those last few steps and all but hurl himself through the doorway, those seemingly simple acts taking all remaining concentration. Now he was safe, away from the concern and suspicion which he suspected to be lurking behind even the kindest smiles.

Kicking the door shut behind him, he curled up on the floor, forcing his hands against the scar on his forehead, hoping the pressure could somehow push the pain back towards the one who had caused it. It was a futile gesture, even as the throbbing began to ease another whispered curse, spoken far away, rekindled the searing pain spreading out from the scar.

* * *

If Buffy had thought that her peers were worried before by the rumours of a coming war, now they were terrified. Now, despite claims by the Ministry that there was no cause for alarm; wizards in general were becoming increasingly wary. The strange event over the New Year which had caused werewolves to change in broad daylight, and Aurors now visibly monitoring Diagon Alley had only added to the questions raised by solstice.

At least when explaining the werewolf transformations the Ministry managed to tell its citizens something which resembled the truth. Of course they had failed to mention that the 'dark magic rituals' in America had taken place at the Hellmouth, but they had rightly deduced that the magic had been tied to the moon somehow. With the moon's energies, powered by the Hellmouth, sweeping across the globe it was no surprise that it had affected creatures tied to its phases.

Even though no one had been harmed by the event; with most werewolves still secure in locations designed for their transformation, recovering from the previous night, the reassurances that the American Bureau was investigating did little to ease people's concerns. There had been too many strange happenings in the past few weeks to be overlooked, and even the Daily Prophet was beginning to voice doubts of the Ministry stance that all was well. Amid this air of worry and distrust the final event needed to tip the wizarding community over from fear to terror came in the first days of the Hogwarts term.

It seemed that the events over the holidays had sparked an interest in the students, as she was certain that on Tuesday morning there were far more papers open on the long House tables than Buffy had ever remembered there being the previous term. Those who had papers were at the centre of huddled groups, as their friends attempted to read with them and the normally boisterous morning meal was held in the unnatural quiet of whispered conversations.

Everyone but the Muggle-borns had been hearing about these men and women for their entire lives, tales of their deeds, stories of relatives lost to the war. Death Eaters had served as wizarding bogey men for the last twenty years. They were the thing of nightmares, and in becoming so ended up as a fuzzy image of evil; something too distant to fully imagine. But now they had escaped from their place beneath the bed and were suddenly all too real again.

"Look at this" Anthony demanded, drawing his classmate's morose expressions away from their breakfasts, "_Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Alice and Frank Long…_" He paused, the fearful awe leaving his voice as he completed the caption, eyes nowhere near the paper "'…bottom."

As one the group of Ravenclaws looked over to the Gryffindor table where the Longbottom they knew was sitting, uncomfortable with all the interest his fellow students were giving him. He shrank beneath their gazes, lost within the sea of empathy without understanding that was being directed his way.

"Guys, just…" Buffy trailed off, midway through berating her friends for their thoughtless reaction, when those empty eyes met her own. She shared a look with Neville and something changed within those eyes as she tried to silently give him the same understanding they had shared on Christmas Day. He managed a slight smile and gave her a grateful nod before turning away to whisper intently to his friends.

"…just leave him be." She finished, staring down her housemates until their attention returned to their food.

She had nearly finished her own meal when a deeper silence descended on the table; even the noise of cutlery being used and the sound of chewing stopped. Buffy looked up to find their rapt attention on her or, more accurately, a few foot above her head. It wasn't much of a surprise to find Neville, smiling sheepishly behind her when she turned.

His face was bright red from all the attention he was receiving, so Buffy quickly stood and led her friend out of the hall.

"Th… Thanks. It was…" The nervous boy still hadn't entirely recovered from his sudden celebrity status, completely unused to being the centre of the school's interest.

"The morbid curiosity was getting too much? Don't worry about it." Buffy smiled, trying to encourage Neville to relax, "Did you want to talk about it? Not that," she clarified quickly at the fearful, trapped expression her question caused, "I meant whatever you wanted me for."

"It's kinda related to that anyway." The forlorn look had returned; that of a child lost and alone who doesn't understand what's going on. But then he focussed on her face, on the undemanding concern she was showing for him, not because of the gossip, but because he was her friend and his whole demeanour changed, the fierce resolve she had seen for a second earlier returning. "I mentioned a while ago that I might be able to help you learn DADA…"

"Don't worry about that now Neville, I know…"

"No, Buffy," He stated firmly, halting her interruption, "now is exactly when we need to worry about it. This just proves…" pausing, he searched her face for something. Buffy wasn't sure what he was looking for, but apparently he found it as there was no hesitation in Neville's voice when he continued, "We all need to know how to protect ourselves, to protect those we care about. Meet me in the library after dinner next Thursday and…"

"Ah, Miss Summers, just the girl I was looking for." The pair looked around to find the diminutive figure of Professor Flitwick approaching.

"Neville…"

"Don't worry about it Buffy." He interrupted her thanks, moving away as the Charms Master came closer. "Just don't forget; the library next Thursday. See you there!"

"Well, Mr Longbottom is certainly in a rush." The small man stated as he reached Buffy, watching with her as the Gryffindor boy disappeared up a flight of stairs. "I didn't intend to disturb your conversation, merely to let you know that the faculty has agreed that you no longer require your extra lessons." He smiled at her look of surprise, "Don't be so shocked, you have done very well this past term and the Headmaster agreed with me that it is better for you to use this time for your own study and preparation for the exams."

He nodded firmly to punctuate his statement, and then he too scurried away up the main staircase, leaving Buffy slightly baffled in his wake. It seemed her evenings would remain free, at least those which weren't taken up by the secret club she had just been invited to. That had been the last thing she had expected.

* * *

She should probably be more worried about the other things that had happened; about the book Crabbe's father had stolen or the rush of Hellmouth energy which, according to the wizarding press, had covered the world. But it was her own transformation which filled her thoughts. That left her restless at night.

The theft of the book, the mass escape; these were the work of evil wizards and Buffy didn't see what she could do about it, or even if she should_. It was not a slayer's duty to involve herself in the conflicts of wizards or men_. That was Camilla's take on Giles' constant reminder that it was only the supernatural she had to police. That by stepping outside these bounds she endangered more than herself, risking the anonymity, the safety of every slayer that would follow her. Without knowing why Slayers had been so carefully hidden from the wizarding community, it seemed especially dangerous to risk revealing herself.

That the Hellmouth had been active did concern her, but she was trapped by circumstance, unable to help the stranger she was trusting to protect her friends. Whatever had threatened the equilibrium had gone, for the insistent desire, the need to get to the Hellmouth, had diminished not long after the wave passed over. But that didn't ease her fears for the safety of her friends, didn't tell her what the price of restoring balance had been.

Buffy avoided thinking about what was happening in Sunnydale, tried not to wait too impatiently for the chance to hear from home, avoided watching out in the mornings for the pygmy owl she hoped would bring her news. Her letter probably wasn't even there yet, lost amongst the festive post, but she couldn't help but hope her mother had read it, would follow the instructions to send letters through Neil.

Instead of dwelling on things she couldn't change, Buffy tried to concentrate on a problem she had a chance of unravelling; what she had become when the Dementors attacked.

"There are amulets you can use, Ro made me one once." Camilla commented offhandedly

Buffy paused in her recitation of holiday exploits, surprised that the statue had responded to her wondering about how the wizards had been able to stay so close to the Dementors. Everything she had read about them told her that getting too close allowed them to take your thoughts, your memories and was progressively worse over time. There had been no mention of preventatives except by casting a patronus, a difficult spell which required all of a wizard's concentration to maintain.

"Amulets?" Buffy queried, hoping rather than expecting a further explanation from her trainer.

"Yes, it dulls their influence. Enough that you can get to their hearts anyway." Camilla shrugged dismissively, "I only fought them once. They were living in the same cave complex as a Ghora Demon. I left them to Ro, they're really creatures for wizards to deal with after all."

Buffy didn't bother to ask why, having long discovered that, to Camilla, problems were neatly divided between the categories of 'human', 'wizard' and 'slayer'. The statue never seemed able to fully explain why a particular creature or issue fell into a certain category, but was decidedly uninterested in anything she deemed to be outside a slayer's purview.

It seemed strange that knowledge of how to protect yourself against Dementors had been hidden until Buffy reminded herself what those creatures had been doing for the last few centuries. Would you want citizens to know that affect of the things guarding your most feared criminals could be diminished merely using an amulet. Would you want them knowing how to kill your guards, something Camilla had mentioned offhandedly, treating it as common knowledge, but which the books had failed to mention. Buffy wondered how many other things had been hidden from the wizarding world.

Continuing her story, she knew that Camilla was only half paying attention to her words, uninterested in any conversations related to magic. The statue's eyes were flitting about the room, a sharp contrast to the steady gaze she held whenever Buffy spoke of her trips into the forest. When Camilla finally began to pace the room she kept her eyes on the white figure, knowing from experience that Camilla had a tendency of diverting attention away from a conversation she was bored of. For some reason Camilla's diversions always seemed to consist of surprise attacks.

She let her mouth carry on as her body readied for battle, Camilla was nearing a set of throwing knives on the wall and Buffy refused to fall for that one again. The statue hadn't even been sympathetic about the cut she had given; only forcing Buffy to train until avoiding the blades became instinctive. With her eyes closely following the path of white hands, making sure they didn't attack her unawares, it took a moment for her to realise that Camilla had stopped moving and, far from preparing to attack, was looking her in fascination.

"You changed? You were in mortal danger and magically changed form to escape it?" For the first time since discovering that Buffy was both a slayer and a witch, Camilla seemed interested in the magical side of Buffy's abilities, her entire being alight with excitement. "That's just like Ro!"

* * *

Buffy quietly entered the library, but even the muffled sound of the door shutting was enough to earn her a glare from Madame Pince, which only deepened when the librarian realised that the girl was approaching her desk, "Do you have any books on Animagi?"

"The books on the transformation are in the restricted section and require permission from a member of staff to read." The woman returned her attention to her desk where she was sorting through recently returned books, "Was there anything else?" she asked sharply after when she noticed that Buffy hadn't left.

"I don't need books on the transformation…"

"Then what is it you are asking for?"

"It's just, I heard something about Rowena Ravenclaw, and I was wondering where I could find out what really happened."

"Oh _that_. You should have said you were interested in stories." Madame Pince commented dismissively, "It's mentioned in '_Hogwarts a History'_ which has biographies of all the founders, a more detailed account can be found in '_Great Discoveries in Transfiguration'_"

Thanking the woman, Buffy found the recommended book in the stacks and took over one of the tables to read, to try and find out what Camilla had been talking about.

'_Rowena Ravenclaw, well known for her work in the early teaching of Charms and Transfiguration, her texts on the subjects were still used for centuries after her death, and she is said to be the designer of the ever changing floor plan of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when she and her partners formed the school in the 10__th__ Century A.D. On speaking of Hogwarts' design, she is quoted as saying 'A changing environment keeps the eyes and mind sharp.'_

_Her most noteworthy achievement besides the founding of said school is that she is recognised as the first Animagus. It is said that she achieved her first transformation of this kind without uttering a spell while trapped by a herd of unicorns. As the tale goes; having stumbled into a grove where a wounded calf lay, she became surrounded by the rest of the herd as they attempted to protect their young one. Unwilling to harm the blessed creatures, but unable to escape, she frantically hoped for a way to remove herself from her predicament.'_

Buffy couldn't help but read the text with a sense of disbelief, hearing Camilla's words echoing in her mind as she skimmed through yet another of the pretty lies the wizarding world told itself.

"_They were trapped in a gorge, with demons penning them in."_

"_They?" Buffy asked, trying to see the point in the story._

"_Rowena and Camilla" The statue clarified, "The real Camilla."_

"_But… don't you have all her memories?"_

"_Not these. She couldn't give them to me." Camilla paused for a moment, giving Buffy time to understand, "After she… I… after Camilla was overwhelmed; it seemed as if Rowena was about to be as well, they were stopping her magic so she couldn't escape, but then… something happened."_

Had this story been changed, like others, to omit the existence of Slayers, or was it merely an attempt to hide the dual life one of their most respected scholars had lead; teacher by day, demon hunter by night. Not that it particularly mattered how or why Rowena had been desperate to get away, only what that frantic need had resulted in.

'_Her need to escape caused her to transform into a large eagle, allowing her to soar to safety before finally collapsing many miles from where she had been. Upon awaking, she found herself returned to her natural state. Intrigued by the transformation at her time of need, she spent much of the remainder of her life researching the occurrence, until she devised the spells and practices, used even to this day, that allow a wizard to transform at will into an animal. _

_The form that an Animagus takes cannot be decided by the witch or wizard, though it is possible for a magically inclined person to change into any animal by using the correct spells for transformation, an Animagus will always take the same form, which is usually a reflection of their desires and character. Since Rowena there have been only a dozen other cases where an Animagus has managed to complete a transformation without the required spells. These occurrences have always taken place while the Animagus was in mortal danger, and these are known as 'Natural Animagi.' Naturals are encouraged to complete the normal transformation process so that they can exert some control over their skill. Without this control, naturals have been known to change permanently, unable to return to their human state._

_Other wizards before her have been recorded to have the ability to change into an animal in a way similar to that of the Anamagus, and so are supposed to be naturals. Without the control provided by the spells their ability was often their downfall. It is for this reason that Rowena Ravenclaw is considered to be the first Animagi, as she was the first to develop a means to control the transformation.'_

It did sound similar to her experience, Buffy mused, an act of desperation fuelled by a person's desire to survive. If this is what had happened, it seemed there was chance of it happening again, of loosing herself in the creature. The thought brought on a chill, being forever trapped inside that feral mind was a terrifying idea, but she didn't have the skill to cast the required spells even if she could get her hands on them.

Her doubts, the differences were all she had to ease those fears; it didn't explain what she had felt, when the slayer power blended with her magic and changed her into something new. It didn't give a reason for the Auror's spells falling apart as they reached her. Camilla had been uninterested in this aspect of the change, dismissively stating that 'Spells don't affect Slayers much.' before asking enthused questions about the transformation itself; what it had felt like to change.

Spells might have a diminished effect on slayers, something which had confused the American wizards who apprehended her, but she had still felt those spells, eventually succumbing to their power. What had happened on solstice was different. After the transformation the magic hadn't even touched her.

Buffy was placing the book back on the shelf, uninterested in the further account of famous Animagi or cautions stating that only those with top level NEWTs in Transfiguration, Charms and Potions should attempt the transformation, when another awful thought struck her. She had been invited to the DADA club, a club which no doubt would focus strongly on the things Umbridge wasn't teaching them. If they were practicing curses and hexes, using one another as targets if Anthony's winces the next day were anything to go by, would they notice something strange about her?

* * *

... so... thoughts?

Unfortunately due to an enjoyment of being in the sun and a slightly insane social life, I didn't get much writing done over the summer... and I've just started a new course which on top of my job (and hopefully some remnants of aforesaid social life) will take up most of my time... so a muse keeping me up at night writing might be the only hope of regular(ish) updates. Wanna feed it?

Having said that, as I said before, the next chapter is oh so nearly done.


	49. The Best Defence

_A/N: - Hurrah! so I kinda kept my promise and got this out fast... ish... I'm still not happy with it, but then I'm rarely completely happy with anything so... meh. Better to get this out there and get on with the next chapter... caus that one's fun! So, having said that I would really love your comments and criticism on this one guys, it's only through them that I can get better. And with that in mind, Big thanks to those who reviewed in the last week! You guys made me smile._

_AllenPitt - I'm glad you liked the Voldemort bit... one of the many parts of that chapter I was concerned over as it was a harsh deviation from Buffy's POV. Now I just have to make sure he lives up to his hype with his (my) _plan to take over the world! _(though it will take slightly longer than one night). It will be revealed soon(ish) what was happening on the Hellmouth... or implied at least... And yes, fasten your seat belts for interaction with the trio lies ahead!_

_General Mac - Yes Sir! *stands to attention* (although... I am wondering if you're tired of that joke... ah well... I'm too old to be original)_

_SHuntress - *hop* *skip* *jump*_

**The Best Defence**

Buffy awoke with a start, her pulse hammering with imagined exertion. She tugged at the curtain which surrounded her bed, freeing herself from the enclosed space, the sight of the room beyond easing the frantic beat of her heart.

Her eyes were drawn to the window, to the vast expanse of the night sky where stars still shone overhead, the dawn a distant thing. Buffy put aside the covers with a sigh, climbing out of bed onto weary limbs. There was no point attempting to get more sleep. She had learnt that the first time she woke so abruptly.

In that regard these dreams were worse than the ones she'd had after leaving Sunnydale; once they forced her out of slumber, any attempt to return to that state was short lived, her subconscious quickly returning to the same thoughts and waking her again.

Despite her intense reaction to them, she couldn't remember the dream that had been curbing her sleep for the past week. It seemed to vanish as soon as she woke, comprised of shadows and echoes that disappeared whenever she tried to catch hold of them; make sense of what was going on.

All she could remember were the feelings, the sense that something terrible had happened, was happening. The powerful need to escape which had, the first few nights, left her fighting to remove her covers; desperate to rid herself of anything that restricted her movement. But even the frantic feeling of being trapped, of claustrophobia, was dwarfed by an overwhelming sense of grief, of loss as strong as that she had felt after leaving Sunnydale.

She shook away the vestiges of sleep, trying blearily to remember if there was any homework she should attempt to do. It was getting harder each time to awaken; despite the unspent energy making her body thrum, her mind was lethargic from too many sleepless nights.

Buffy was used to sleep deprivation; she had lived on half what normal people got for most of her two years in Sunnydale. There her extra waking house had been spent active, body and mind working double time to save lives, save herself. Here the boredom of being awake while the rest of the castle slept took its toll, making the hours seem longer and the lack of sleep harder to bear.

Quietly donning her robes she edged down through the empty common room, descending the spiral stairs to stroke the eagle's head. Buffy glanced about, trying to judge the likelihood of discovery before slipping out. Even if no one else was up, Camilla would be awake and eager to help Buffy work off the adrenaline generated by the dream. Statues had no need to sleep, after all.

* * *

Breakfast had become a strange affair in the week since the mass break out. Students quietly ate their food, waiting for something to happen. The first morning Buffy hadn't known what it was that put such wary anticipation in the air, why they picked at their food. Then the owls descended.

There were more of them each morning now; fear drove people to keep a closer contact with those they loved, requiring constant reassurance that their families were okay. Then there were the vast numbers of owls carrying the tight rolls of Daily Prophet to almost every area of the hall.

Once the mail arrived each morning so far the school would, almost as a whole, breathe a sigh of relief. And the day would continue, slowly growing more uneasy as the length of time since hearing all was well grew longer, until the cycle could repeat.

That initial air of terror was impossible to maintain, and so instead it had slowly become routine. Her fellow students all too quickly adapting to the certainty that, with or without their leader, the Death eaters were rallying together once more.

Perhaps it was the lack of uncertainty that eased their worries, no longer torn between believing the wonderful lie that all was well and the terrifying rumours that nothing was. Perhaps it was merely this waiting game, the lack of immediate action by the criminals to justify the fears. Regardless, the shock over the escape passed and with a resolve that felt very British, keeping calm and carrying on, what had happened was accepted, absorbed into the collective psyche.

Even Umbridge's most recent decree, yet another way for the woman to control every aspect of school life, hadn't caused much of a stir. How could it when all that was important was the relief everyone felt at discovering that it had made the headlines. Because if that was on the front page then nothing else had happened.

The commotion of the holidays was forgotten. What were werewolves and sprites after all when there were wand wielding convicts on the loose? Depressingly quickly, it had been forgotten as Hogwarts returned to what passed as normality. Normal as long as you ignored the tension in the mornings, the lack of laughter, the flinches which resulted from unexpected noise.

As if to confirm her thoughts, Anthony jumped slightly in his seat beside her as a flutter began overhead, knocking the hand which had been buttering Buffy's toast, as the first flapping began overhead. The bright winter's day displayed on the ceiling above was quickly blackened by the density of birds overhead, some swooping down to place letters in front of their recipient while others circled above, waiting their turn.

There was a hunger to the students grabbing at their mail, ripping open rolls of parchment to scan their contents, family members in differing houses searching out eye contact with one another across the hall, silently checking that all was well. One morning earlier in the week a second year from Gryffindor had let out a choked sob on opening her mail. The commotion which resulted was finally calmed when Professor McGonagall announced to the school that the girl's pet cat had been of an advanced age and there was nothing nefarious about its death.

"And the flocks are gone for another day" Buffy watched with Anthony as the last owl left without anything being deposited for either of them.

"They're parliaments actually" the boy commented without taking his eyes away from the high windows, his attention finally drawn away from them by the derisive snort that came across the table. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." a girl Buffy recognised from her 4th year classes said to Anthony, muttering "Muggle-born" to the boy sitting beside her before haughtily returning to her dinner.

"What?" his question had more bite in it this time, having heard the remark.

The girl met his glare with a sneer "A group of owls, is a Council. Well unless you're a Muggle, that is." And with a final derisive look she was gone, dragging her friend with her out of the hall.

Anthony turned his head, following the pair as they left. "What does it matter if it's a council or a parliament of owls?"

Buffy smiled, "You cared that I called it a flock."

Anthony's scowl faltered before finally settling on a self deprecating smirk, "Yeah, I guess."

But despite his forcibly jovial tone, an awkward silence had returned to the table.

* * *

While the rest of the school merely resigned themselves to what was to come, it seemed Neville's new sense of purpose had only intensified. It was a solemn boy who met her in the library, leading her up through the school, getting quieter, even more resolute the higher they went. They eventually paused at a blank wall somewhere on the seventh floor.

"One sec." Neville said, wandering back and forward along the corridor until a door appeared, which he opened with a flourish. The room was empty, a large brightly lit classroom with a line of shelves along one wall.

"Huh, we must be the first one's here." He commented, beginning to pace up and down the space while Buffy took in the room, "You don't mind if I practice a bit, do you?" His hand had been twitching near the pocket where Buffy knew his wand was stored, eager to get to work now that he was here.

"Go ahead." She was happy to collapse onto the pile of cushions in the far corner, drowsily watching as Neville silently went through a series of wand movements.

He hadn't mentioned it again, in fact he had pointedly avoided any conversation that approached the subject of his parents, but Buffy knew why her doing this was important to him, why he had stopped spending his free time in the greenhouses. Instead she had met him on a number of evenings in the library, researching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and from the looks of it the rest of his time had been spent here, relentlessly practicing what he read.

It wasn't long before the door swung open, a voice preceding its owner into the room "I still don't know why you wouldn't tell me what I needed to add to make them…"

"I'm not going to help you do _badly_ in potions just to get back at the Slytherins, and anyway Neville managed to do enough without…" She trailed off, turning away from her friend to see the boy in question standing before them. Any apology died on her tongue at Ron's enthusiastic reaction to the same discovery.

"Yeah, that was brilliant mate; don't know how you managed it."

"I didn't mean to…"

"Of course you didn't Neville. Although you really should be more careful about how you chop your lacewings. And your cauldron temperature needs to be monitored; it can be quite dangerous in…"

"Knock it off Hermione. He gave Crabbe boils. _Purple_ boils!" Ron's enthusiastic praise was interrupted by the door slamming open.

"Neville!" The redheaded twins quickly moved from the doorway to flank the boy, gently manoeuvring him into a corner of the room. "We hear you're the man to talk to about…"

Ron watched his brothers interrogate his friend with a bemused expression "I never thought I'd see anyone taking potions advice from Neville… even if it is only on how to make it go wrong."

"Yes, well… at least eventually Snape found an antidote which didn't react." Hermione sighed, fidgeting slightly as she looked over at the trio, barely able to contain the urge to stop the twins.

The room was beginning to fill up at an alarming pace, primarily with students from Gryffindor but also a few from both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Unsurprisingly none of those who entered the room came from Slytherin. Buffy watched as they split up into groups, chatting about their day or practicing spells, unsure what to do. Besides one or two interested glances, she had for the most part been ignored, and Neville was unable to make introductions, still trapped by the Weasley twins while looking slowly more anxious for escape.

"Harry!"

The room quietened for a moment at the cheerful greeting, watching to see if they were about to begin, but the new arrival walked briskly over to his friends.

"It's bad form for the teacher to be late you know." Ron teased, his grin dropping when he saw his friend's worried expression. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Harry replied shortly, deliberately easing the tension in his body and glancing about the room for anything to distract his friends, "What are your brother's doing with Neville?"

Ron snorted "I think they want the recipe for his potion."

"I can't believe we're testing all the potions this term on those two." Harry grinned, "I wonder what they did to make Snape mad."

"Who cares? It's not like they don't deserve it. Now if I only knew how to…" Ron began, glancing sideways at Hermione before being cut off again.

"Ron, if you want to 'accidentally' mess up your potion _you'll_ have to figure out how."

"Well." Harry said before Ron could say anything to annoy their friend, "We should probably get started." He glanced back over towards Neville, "Wasn't Neville going to bring a friend?"

"I think he has."

* * *

Buffy was far enough away that they shouldn't suspect her of overhearing their conversation, but there was a curiosity in Hermione's gaze when she allowed her eyes, which had been carefully roaming the room, to focus on the trio now looking at her intently.

There shouldn't have been sides, at least not any which extended beyond the bounds of her and them, Buffy alone before the group which had been meeting together in secret for months. If that had been the case she might have left. Even if that did make Neville's hurt expression that appeared when her realised that his friend wasn't immediately welcomed more forlorn, Buffy wouldn't have stayed if no one else had spoken up for her.

But they did.

Arguing her case were those few she might have hoped would stand by her; Anthony despite failing to tell her about the group at its outset, Padma who had never tried to get her to join but was a good friend none the less. Alongside those who could be expected to put themselves between her and that spark of hurt in Harry's eyes which quickly ignited into anger were others, an older Gryffindor girl Buffy vaguely recognised from her first interaction with Crabbe and Goyle, the pompous Hufflepuff prefect who somehow came across as self serving even as he defended her right to join them.

Harry couldn't come up with a concrete reason that she shouldn't be there, and that seemed to only add to his anger, his jealousy. That this girl who had gained the trust of his father's friend could do the same with his classmates, slipping into the good graces of the people around him without notice, without warning.

"She should sign the list." Hermione finally said, breaking into a gap in the arguments between those who thought they should be more careful now than ever, and the ones who agreed with Neville's impassioned declaration that with what had happened, they should try to help as many as possible.

That seemed to stump even Harry, a new wave of anger following the look of betrayal that appeared on his face at the implication that even his friend was against him. She marched across the room to a notice board by the door and pulled down a sheet. "When we wrote our names on this list we all agreed not to tell anybody what we planned. I think if Buffy would like to join, she should sign it too; show that she agrees to keep our secret." By the time she had completed her speech, Hermione was back beside Harry, calmly meeting the deadly glare focussed upon her.

"You told Neville that he could bring a friend along Harry. You can't change that now. It might be a risk, but all of this always was." The fight didn't quite leave the boy at those words, anger still lurking behind a resolute expression, but it was no longer directed at her. If it had ever really been. He had entered the room with a level of annoyance which had never really diminished.

In general the group seemed satisfied by Hermione's approach, content that by placing her name alongside theirs she was declaring herself to be one of them. One of _Dumbledore's Army_. They crowded about while Justin summoned a quill from his bag, presenting it to Buffy with a flourish.

Before the nib left the paper at the end of her signature, Buffy felt a slight tingle in her fingers, minute fragments of magic travelling up through her, only noticeable as they interacted with the slayer's power. After a moment the sensation stopped but she was sure that the magic itself remained, waiting dormant within her. Buffy searched those about her for any sign of undue interest but most had now turned away, the disruption caused by her presence over.

She resisted reaching out when Hermione returned the parchment to the board, not wanting to loose sight of the item which had bound some strange magic to her. What else had she agreed to by putting pen to paper? What retribution would this magic take on someone that broke that agreement?

Hermione's eyes met hers as the girl turned back to face the room and Buffy saw a flicker of something within them, a suspicion that grew as she realised where Buffy's concentration had been. The magic had been too little, too faint to be noticeable for a normal witch. By taking notice of it Buffy would be doing what she had wanted to avoid; drawing attention to herself, to her resistance to magic.

* * *

The lesson was oddly reminiscent of the first time she had visited Ravenclaw's Study, of those hours spent with Remus looking for the power hidden within. Harry bounced open questions back and forth through the group in a way that meant they did more than just learn; they understood. As he taught he too seemed to finally relax, in his element teaching something that came almost as easily to him as flying had.

For Buffy too, what they were learning was instinctive. This wasn't about correct pronunciations and emphasis, picturing spells or intent; it was all about the movements of the wand. They were practicing how to trick an opponent by redirecting your spells, adding flicks and twists onto the end of a cast to turn the magic that emerged, spin it so that it might evade a shield and strike. These moves felt like something ingrained into Buffy's soul, like the thrust and parry of a sword; like fighting.

After running through the techniques and correcting their wand work, Harry split the group into pairs trying to get around each other's shields with the relatively harmless _expallarmus_ before finally turning to Buffy, his faded ire quickly returning. She waited as he inspected her, not wanting to reignite his anger, letting young eyes attempt to bore through her. To uncover her secrets.

Unable to read anything behind her expression, or without the experience to do so, the boy broke the connection with a scowl. "Well… I suppose we should go over what we learnt last term."

They started with the disarming charm being used by the others, a spell which was directed not at Buffy herself but the wand she carried. This left her free from worries about revealing her magic, allowed her to relax further into the friendly atmosphere, caused her to progressively let down her guard.

She was so immersed in the jovial banter around them that when Buffy finally sent Harry's wand flying out of his grasp, she didn't think twice about moving forward to get it for him. And with the thrill of triumph rushing through her, Buffy didn't notice the warmth of the connection where her fingers met wood, the answering call of the Slayer. She grinned up at the boy when he came to collect his wand, meeting his warm expression; both stupidly proud of her success despite the fact that he had been distracted by the mock duels which had broken out amongst a few members.

But then his fingers met hers over the wand and it was like a switch being flipped; a surge of power and the sudden disappearance of that spark of friendship that had been growing in Harry's eyes. She hadn't even noticed it until it was gone; his bright green eyes once again filled with the suspicion Buffy was so familiar with, all warmth extinguished. But this time that suspicion was laced with fear.

Fear of the magic which had arched between them, bridged by an object which after five years as his was suddenly betraying him; reacting to another. The surge left trails of awareness tingling through his entire body, these traces of magic that felt familiar, close to his own, but yet distinct from it. Magic laced with darkness, the sensation was sickeningly similar to the one that invaded his mind each night.

The class had already been disbanding, students milling about discussing what they had learnt while others practiced, so Harry's abrupt decision to end the evening's session wasn't met with surprise. Instead they formed a disorderly queue by the door, various groups continuing a barrage of conversation as they waited for word from their leader. He sent them out of the room in groups of two or three, alternating the houses and giving each group a route to avoid suspicious crowding in any of the corridors.

Slowly but surely the room emptied, and though she joined her friends when Anthony and Padma waved him over, Buffy's eyes remained trained on Harry. What had he felt when their magic leapt for one another, was it the taint of the slayer's power that he feared? Had she revealed herself, despite everything?

He flinched back, away from the doorway, when Buffy passed by, avoiding any proximity and quickly waving the group out and away despite their proximity to the pair of Hufflepuffs before them. She could feel those deceptively clear eyes attempting to bore through her as Harry watched them leave, and tried to smile through the worry, to join in with Anthony's excitement and forget what might have been revealed that night, how much more she risked by taking part in this.

At that moment, steadily walking back to her dorm, what she feared far more than discovery; than the chance that schoolchildren would discover a secret she couldn't uncover while knowing most of the answers, what she couldn't forget was what awaited her that night. What horrors she would be subjected to in her dreams. Because even when she could sleep it was nightmares that came, of creatures that could suck out your soul, of the Hellmouth spewing demons that couldn't be held back.

* * *

_So this was an annoying chapter in many ways, not the least because once again the characters flat out refused to follow my plan (they decided it didn't make sense) and set off on a tangent of their own. __I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with scenes like this. It's interesting to see where the characterisation takes me... but a pain in the ass to have to ignore my planned route. There were jokes in the bit I had to scrap! some of them might even have been funny._

_Ironically enough one of the big times this happened early in the story was when she met Hermione in the library... this interaction was going to prompt the friendship which caused Buffy to be in DA but I just couldn't get any scene that did what I wanted in character... and so the whole story changed... and the route taken to get to here ended up a lot more winding (and interesting) than I had ever hoped._

_Sorry this all makes things seem more poignant than they necessarily are, really I'm just a bit odd this evening and feeling like reflecting back. Which, after all is what so much of this story is about. The present is the key to the past, but it is the past that provides a clear view of the present. If you can get back far enough maybe, just maybe, we can see forever._

_Please review... as the above proves, I really need to be distracted from the inner ramblings of my mind. I might fall into a plot hole and never get out!_


	50. Big Trouble in the Forest

**_A/N:_**_- I kept debating over posting this... But I figure you guys deserve some more after my disappearing act over the summer. As a slight disclaimer... I'm still without Beta, so unfortunately the edits are all down to me... which generally means the chapter is worse (at least grammatically) than usual... sorry. I do try... and I always think it makes perfect sense until someone proves me wrong._

_A reason I was thinking of delaying this post is that I might not be able to get anything more out quickly. Please note that big chunk of this chapter has been written for months... which is the main reason it came out so fast. For the next chapter this is not the case... and it has some scenes that I know are likely to be hard to write. I'm also doing a degree part time after work... which leaves me little time for anything at all! So please be patient with me._

_Having said that... all of the lovely reviews I got in the last week had a huge part in spurring me on in my writing, getting this finished oh so much faster than I thought I might!_

_Allen Pitt - you are right that what happens as a routine in sunnydale would be a big event here…_

_wolf-that-faces-north - this will never become a full ensemble fic as I'm not sure I could write well enough to pull that off (I barely cope with the characters I do have). However the scobies will be putting in appearances later… and I haven't decided if/who might stick around._

_Chooser of the Slain - I know what you mean… my inability to keep up a good posting schedule prevents me from ever complaining about those of other authors. I never intend to leave you guys hanging though… it just seems to happen… repeatedly… sorry._

_General Mac, enchantedlight - thanks for your encouragement._

_I don't think the response this story has had over the years will ever cease to amaze and thrill me (it really shocks me sometimes that it's getting it still... it has been a while after all)._

**_Big Trouble in the Forest_**

Buffy stared blankly at the parchment in her hands.

She had been feeling so good that morning, despite waking with the bitter taste of fear on her tongue, for the first time that week her sleep had been undisturbed. Fully rested, Buffy had bounded down to breakfast, and even the stares directed at her from the Gryffindor table hadn't been able to dampen her spirits.

She had slept well and, best of all; it was Saturday. The Forbidden Forest beckoned.

Then the post arrived, and for once one of the owls broke from the group to settle on her shoulder. Neil's pygmy owl passed her a slim letter before helping itself to a slice of bacon from Buffy's plate. When he finally ate his fill she was still there, frozen in position while all about her ripped at paper to get into their correspondence.

She kept half expecting it to change, to become something more, something closer to what she had hoped for. But it didn't, and like the final words her mother had spoken to her, the sight before her circled through her brain, the meaning behind it.

An arm reaching across her to grab a rack of toast finally broke Buffy's emotionless gaze. "Aren't you going to open it?" Michael asked, already munching on a dry slice as he buttered another.

"No… not right now."

She couldn't read Neil's words and feel anything but sorrow. Because in a letter this thin there wouldn't be anything from Joyce, and that absence was a response in itself. She couldn't fool herself any longer, there was no plausible reason that her letter wouldn't have reached Sunnydale yet. Buffy knew the hopes that it had somehow been lost in the mail, that her mom had moved without leaving a forwarding address were just daydreams.

An attempt to justify in any, every, way but the one that was undoubtedly true why there hadn't been a response to her letter with Neil's. Because even with the proof before her, Buffy refused to believe that the woman who had taken her in could now abandon her. Believe that she would stand by those final words; eliminate her adopted daughter from her life.

_The dream!_ A part of her exclaimed, fighting against the rising sense of despair. _She wanted me back._

It had all felt so real at the time, Buffy hadn't thought to doubt what she saw but now, now that everything she thought she knew had suddenly been proved lies, even her memories were becoming suspect. Had it even happened or was it actually only a fantasy, something her subconscious concocted to ease her worries about her family.

Buffy stood abruptly, leaving her breakfast uneaten and thrusting the letter deep into her bag; getting it out of sight but not as easily banished from her mind. She needed to be doing something, to drown out the thoughts circling her mind like vultures nearing a dying beast, waiting for misery to enshroud her. All that was needed was to get through the day, to endure the hours until she could escape this place and let loose her emotions on the creatures of the night.

* * *

She had wanted to vent her frustrations, to let off some steam, but she ended up running full pelt towards the one place, the one being in the wood that had really harmed her.

In her excursions to the forest since her first encounter with the giant, Buffy had kept away from his clearing, not keen for another encounter with the creature. The choice was taken away when she heard shrieks coming from where the giant was held captive. Unable to ignore the fearful cries, Buffy took a steadying breath, priming herself for the encounter, before sprinting in the direction of the clearing.

When she got there, Buffy quickly found out what all the noise was about; a young centaur was trapped, caught beneath one of the giant's hands. A mature stallion was desperately trying to extract the foal, but couldn't maintain a sustained attack without being captured himself by the empty hand which was freely moving, its broken restraint trailing on the ground.

She edged along the outskirts of the clearing, not eager to reveal her presence to the giant without some plan, but unable to think of any actions that might help the situation. Finally she relented, swallowing the fears left over from her last encounter with the creature and doing what she usually did, what she had done before here with such dire consequences; run in without any idea how she would exit alive. She drew the long silver knife that she had taken to carrying in the forest as she ran and stabbed at the giant's free hand, effectively thwarting an attack on the centaur.

He let out a sharp noise of surprise and pulled away, the ropes still attached to his wrists whipping out as he recoiled. He rounded on Buffy with a low growl, snatching at her as she came closer to use her blade on the hand restraining the young centaur. Before he could get her the stallion intercepted his attack, charging at his legs and unsteadying him enough that he had to use the hand for support.

And so the fight began in earnest; the pair alternating their attempts to free the foal with retreats and distracting attacks. Without the giant's focus entirely upon her it was easier to avoid him but, although his attention now had to be split between her and the male centaur, he seemed unwilling to relinquish his prize. Despite roaring in pain at the kicks from the centaur's hooves and Buffy's attacks with her weapon, he refused to release the young centaur from his battered grasp. His swipes at them with the other hand getting steadily more vicious, he managed to knock the blade from Buffy's hand, hitting her right arm with the blow and driving all sensation from it.

They couldn't keep this up much longer, Buffy could feel her reactions slowing as she tired and her companion was at least as, if not more, battered than she was. The giant might be tiring too, his blows slightly less fast, but he was also getting angrier, and the hand trapping the foal was beginning to tighten its grip. At this rate captive would be crushed before they got close to defeating the creature.

Catching the centaur's attention during one of their retreats, Buffy yelled "I'll distract him" she waited the moment it took for him to nod in understanding before running in, picking up a sizeable branch as she did. Scrambling up the giant's back, she narrowly avoided his free arm, with which he tried to knock her off, and leapt up onto his head. Grabbing onto coarse hair for a moment to stabilise herself, she took the branch into both hands and hit him as hard as she could on the weak point of his skull, directly between the eyes, causing the makeshift club to crack.

This time she was expecting the blow that knocked her from her precarious position and sent her flying across the clearing. Buffy rolled as she landed, lowering the impact and quickly regained her footing, turning to see if the information on giants had been correct. Praying that this worked.

The huge creature stumbled back confused by the blow. A hard two-hooved kick to an ankle further unsteadied the dazed giant who was forced to use both hands in an attempt to remain upright. The centaur immediately grabbed hold of the youngster and quickly exited the clearing. Buffy edged backwards, worried that the giant's attention would now be focussed on her, but her research seemed to be valid; this giant at least was severely disorientated by a strike to the head. He took a few more shaky steps backwards and then sat down heavily, nursing his head in his hands.

Collecting her blade from by the oblivious giant, Buffy headed off to find the centaur and check that he and the foal had survived the encounter. She saw the stallion just outside the clearing with the foal laid before him and began to approach, but as she drew closer noticed that he was not alone. She drew back, hoping to avoid the attention of the large figure that the centaur was in an increasingly heated discussion with. Before she could complete her escape the centaur spoke, alerting his companion to her presence.

"Thank you for your help, child. I, Arno, am indebted to you." He bowed towards her, apparently blind to the wide-eyed fear his acknowledgement had caused.

"Who are…?" Hagrid inspected her closer, looking beneath the mud that now soiled her clothes "Yer a student. What're yeh doing outta Hogwarts?"

"You should also be thanking this girl" Arno said in his firm even tone, easily cutting through Hagrid's agitation, "If one of us, especially a foal, had been harmed by the giant we would not suffer its presence any longer."

"What yeh mean… "

"He's right Hagrid" from behind the tall man came one of the two dark centaurs that had flanked their chieftain on the night she had first encountered vampires in the forest. The quiet menace of the black centaur's voice did not have the regal air of Arno's, but it's coarse undertones only served to make it more chilling, "But the time for us to endure it occupying our land is over."

As he spoke Buffy made out the shadowy shapes of more centaurs in the trees behind him, and the rustles in the undergrowth indicated there were more all around them. Those she could see carried notched bows comfortably in powerful arms, their expressions grim and sharp eyes ready to locate a target.

"Now Bane yeh got no righ' ter…" Hagrid broke off mid sentence, halting his aggressive movements towards the centaur at the audible drawing of bowstrings. Having finally spotted the danger they were in he moved in front of Buffy in an attempt to shield the student from the centaurs' dark-tipped arrows.

Poison, Buffy realised; one arrow, even hundreds of arrows, would not harm a giant, but the nicks they made could be used to inject something else into its bloodstream, something fatal. Bane made a gesture and the centaurs behind him began to move towards the clearing, bows at the ready.

"Halt." The archers paused at Arno's word, but Bane quickly rounded on him, an angry fire glinting in dark eyes.

"Would you allow it to…"

"I will not blame the creature for the faults of our young." That stopped Bane's angry retort "The foals were taunting it, running in and out of the clearing, just beyond reach. It is no surprise it sought to harm them when it broke the restraint."

"Is this true?" Bane growled, turning to where two more foals were nervously shuffling from hoof to hoof, repeating his question with a bellow when they failed to respond. "Is it?"

"Y-yes." One stuttered nervously, flinching back from the angered glare that the admission received.

"Your actions shall be judged on our return." He turned away having dismissed the youngsters "We will not harm the giant this night" he intoned, glaring narrow eyed at Hagrid " however you must control it or we will be forced to act." With a wave he dismissed the armed centaurs, but even with them gone the threat they posed wasn't something Buffy would quickly forget.

"Yeh can' decide who gets ter live…"

"We will protect the herd." Bane interrupted in clipped tones that brooked no argument "How is she?" his voice, though still hard softened perceptibly as he looked down at the young centaur lying on the grass.

"Only bruised, thanks to The S-" Arno luckily turned her way as he spoke and noticed the widening of Buffy's eyes "-child over there." He finished, his voice for the first time losing its smooth quality. Perhaps he had not been so oblivious of her earlier reaction, or the repeat of it had made him recognise it, for there seemed to be some apology in his tone. Buffy glanced warily at Hagrid, but he was still glaring at Bane and seemed to have missed the slip.

"I offer you my thanks, and the protection of the herd, should you require it." The dark, bearded face inclined in a slight bow before focusing on the irate man "Do not give me reason to defend her from you, Hagrid."

"Me?" the tall man exploded at the insinuation and muttered angrily as Bane, signalling Arno to follow, collected the foal in his arms and cantered away. Luckily the centaurs didn't hear his utterances, as she doubted Bane would have appreciated being called an 'overgrown nag'.

The pair watched in silence as the centaurs disappeared into the foliage, Arno pausing to dip his head respectfully towards Buffy before he went out of sight. Once they were gone, Hagrid sighed and shifted on his feet.

"I suppose tha' was meant ter stop me askin' what yeh're doin' out here?" Buffy shrugged, wary of how to react without any clues of what the man's plans were.

"Well then" he continued when she didn't respond "I'd better get yeh back ter Hogwarts"

She could feel his gaze upon her but didn't dare meet it, her head filled with potential outcomes of this meeting, and all of them seemed to be bad.

"Name's Hagrid"

An arm appeared in her line of vision, hand outstretched. Finally risking a glance up at his face she found none of the anger or suspicion she had expected, there was an understandable level of interest, but no blame. She took his hand, surprised that the shake she received, though firm, did not reflect his bulk.

"Buffy"

Bushy eyebrows rose on hearing her accent "Didn' think I recognised you – yeh're tha new kid from across the pond"

"That's me"

He turned back towards the school, about to lead them back but stopped and looked back towards the clearing before leaving "D'you mind if I check on Grawp first? I gotta see how badly yeh hurt 'im this time"

It shouldn't have been a surprise that he knew, or figured it out; she must have left footprints all over the clearing and she hadn't been in a state where she could disguise her trail leading back to the school. What had he thought, she wondered, when he discovered that someone had so quickly uncovered his secret? Was Hagrid as terrified of it being revealed as she was of her own?

The clearing was the most peaceful Buffy had seen it. The giant, Grawp, had seemingly just lain down and gone to sleep after they left. A swelling on his forehead marked the place that Buffy had hit him, and the surrounding area was quickly becoming a deep purple bruise. All that could be heard was his surprisingly shallow.

Do giants get concussion, Buffy wondered. She didn't want to advocate waking him, so it was probably best not to mention the possibility.

"He looks alright I guess. 'Spect he'll be down for some time yet, given the size o' tha' bruise"

"Sorry" Buffy couldn't help but apologise for causing pain to someone this man cared for enough to sound like that. "The last time I didn't know he was there, anything I did was to get away, but this time we had to…" The giant rolled over, revealing the new injuries on his hands, marked with multiple hoof sized bruises and cuts from her knife.

"Nah they're righ'; better this than the centaurs bein' angry at 'im." He glanced speculatively between the sleeping giant and the petite girl as they retied the restraints, "You gonna tell me how yeh knocked out a giant? Tha's a feat even though he is a runt"

"Are you going to tell me why you brought one home?" she countered.

"Heh" Hagrid let out a deep chuckle "Fair enough. Seems like we both have something to hide." The giant fully bound once more, the pair began to make their way back to the school.

"Are you going to tell them?" Buffy had been expecting a quick decisive answer, not the thoughtful pause that followed her question.

"Well… it's not like yeh can't take care of yerself" He said with an audible shrug "Anyhow, I reckon there's not much goin' on at his school that Dumbledore doesn' know about. If he's lettin' you come out here, there's bound to be a reason."

He wasn't going to say anything. Buffy didn't really care how he decided to justify the decision to himself. However she couldn't help but worry at his tone, still not completely convinced. Buffy could feel weight of his eyes upon her back as he followed her, looking for some sign to prove that his decision was right.

"Yer not going to explain are you?" He asked, finally breaking the silence as they approached his hut on the outskirts of the forest.

"Are you?"

He caught her arm before she could start away from him across the lawn "Listen, jus' leave him alone. We don' mean any harm." Looking into those deep brown eyes you couldn't help but believe the sincerity of what he was saying. But Buffy had also heard students' tales of other dangerous creatures this man deemed harmless.

Despite her misgivings she nodded. She had never sought to harm the creature, had avoided it where possible, so it was no difficulty to ignore the giant. Hagrid's worry wasn't entirely eased by the weak smile she gave before heading across the expanse of snow-covered lawn towards the school, but then her eyes had contained the same warnings as the centaurs; that the peace was conditional.

* * *

_It came back to her slowly, awareness returning in disjointed trickles. The sensation of the manacles came first, of heavy metal weighing down on her wrists and ankles as it held her in place. She tugged at the chains that attached her arms to the rock of the wall, turning her head to look with bleary eyes at the result of her efforts. The metal didn't strain, even after having her full force pulling at the chains, but then she did feel weak, surprisingly so; pain coursing through her veins._

_She closed her eyes, fighting against this return of sensation, every ache making itself known. When she reopened her eyes she could see better, further into the dark space she would once have been able to view as clear as daylight, male out the blurred outlines of dark figures before her._

_Her reaction was instinctual, an immediate recoiling away from these men. That they made no attempt to free the girl bound to the wall would have been enough to prompt fear, anger but not the strength of loathing which rose up within her. Something in her mind, a part of the memories that were as hazy as her sight, told her that there was something more than mere cruelty in their intentions. They spoke but the sound too was muffled, incomprehensible, echoing through her skull._

_She shook her head, trying to clear it, straining to concentrate on something, anything other than the fire in her organs. The men took her movements as an answer, angrily coming closer to gesture at her with sharp movements. The harsh glow of energy illuminated dark hair bringing into harsh focus the stained and sodden strands that hung limply around her face. She focussed on that, on her matted mane, on anything but the way her nerves seemed to burn as she fought to reject the darkness they were forcing into her; that was threatening to take over her body and soul._

_Pain wracked through her very essence as it battled against them and then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the force she had been combating was gone. Her entire body, which had been tensely coiled in reaction to her anguish, relaxed and she slumped forwards, supported only by the chains that bound her to the rock that imprisoned her, struggling to force breath into lungs exhausted from screaming._

_It was getting harder to resist, taking longer to recover each time it happened. This she knew without a memory of this being done to her before, not needing the pictures in her mind when somehow a part of her soul remembered. But this knowing was a fickle thing, she knew they would keep going with no knowledge of how long it might last, of how many times this had happened before. She lifted her head just in time to see the next wave come._

* * *

"Do we even have to? She can just sleep in and…"

"I think she's waking up."

The insistent rocking motion that the world had been making paused for a moment before resuming with renewed vigour as a different voice murmured, "Finally!"

"Come on, you need to get up. Breakfast is nearly over."

As the sounds became sharper the pain dulled and Buffy opened her eyes to find two of her dorm mates standing by her bed.

"We've got to run. You should hurry if you want any food."

The sound of the door shutting behind them echoed through a mind that still bore the wounds of the dream. Despite oversleeping she felt exhausted, having spent the night battling demons hidden within heavy cloaks. Trapped within a nightmare which no longer seemed content to leave her sleepless, this time the fear, the pain hadn't forced her out of the dream but held her in the moment as firmly as the chains which had bound her to the rocks.

It had been so vivid; the sights and sounds distorted by circumstance but the pain, every second of the torture was burnt onto Buffy's memory. She winced as she got up, body aching with sympathetic pains of those she had felt in her dream. Buffy couldn't help but think that it had to mean something, be trying to tell her something.

The pain, the waves of energy that had caused it to spread throughout her body had been familiar. It had echoes of the sensations she had felt when she was first captured by wizards, of the night in Knockturn Alley when magic had flooded over her transformed state. The ones who in her dream had bound and tortured her had been wizards, twisting their magic to cause pain. On autopilot, she moved about the room, slowly getting ready to face the world.

Was this a prophecy, a warning of what was to come? Had her secret already been divulged by the huge man? Were they coming even now to take her, away to some dark forgotten place where none would ever find her? It had felt so real, but Giles had told her that these dreams weren't always of the near future, they might be warning of something she could prevent, or against repeating the actions of the past.

When she reached for her hairbrush her eyes caught sight of a letter lying unopened on her bedside table and all thought stopped. Could she believe in this dream, trust that what she saw was real when the last time a dream had felt so achingly tangible, it had shown her mother; shown something that couldn't have happened. With a couple of quick swipes at her hair, Buffy rushed out of the dorm, hoping to grab some breakfast.

As she sped down the stairs to the forth floor, she nearly crashed into another student in as much as a hurry as her. His muttered, "Sorry." overlaid her own and the boy looked up upon hearing her voice.

She expected one of the defiant glares that had become customary in the last few days; an instinctive reaction to the flash of fear the sight of her caused. Instead Harry merely nodded at her and continued on his way to the great hall. Buffy wasn't sure that this could be chalked up to any lessening of hostility, or was more to do with an inability to generate the anger needed. He seemed to be as exhausted as she was; his speed down the stairs seemingly more to do with the momentum granted by gravity than by any effort on his part.

When they reached the landing above the entrance hall, Buffy stopped for an entirely different reason. Headmaster, his deputy and Hagrid were deep in conversation as they headed out of the front door. Professors meeting like this; in corridors or one another's classrooms, their quiet whispers quickly dying when students came near, wasn't anything new. Ever since the Christmas break the staff had been on edge, and it didn't take a genius to realise why they chose to avoid the staff room.

It wasn't only the teachers who notably avoided discussing misgivings anywhere that it might get back to the Hogwart's High Inquisitor, but this conversation between the heads of the school and the only one who knew anything concrete about her sent a chill down Buffy's spine. Had the huge man changed his mind, was everything she sought to hide about to be revealed?

Buffy glanced warily out of the open door. There were no wizards gathering ready to take her away, nothing but the retreating figure of Hagrid as he ambled across the lawn, blocking all view of his companion's before him. It could be nothing. She tried to remember previous occasions when this group had met secretively but nothing came to mind, she hadn't been watching for it before.

In any case, what could she do? If she attempted to cover up her actions now it would probably turn out like every cop drama on TV – the efforts to remain anonymous causing her discovery. With a resolution to ignore the nagging worries, Buffy turned from the doorway and nearly bumped into the Head Girl.

"Buffy. I was just coming to look for you."

"Oh?" was all Buffy could get out, her hopes that the dream was just that cracking, crumbling.

"Professor Flitwick wanted to see you after breakfast." Angela continued, barely noticing Buffy's strange reaction, "I waited in the hall for you…" she suddenly paused, taking in Buffy's white countenance, "Are you okay?"

Buffy smiled weakly at the girl's real concern. This was why, despite her overbearing attitude and occasional lack of sensitivity, she had been made a prefect in the first place why she was promoted to Head Girl; she honestly cared about her peers, "I just didn't sleep well. I'll be fine after some food."

"Well hurry before they stop serving. It didn't sound urgent so I'm sure the Professor won't mind when you come." She frowned slightly when this didn't seem to remove any of Buffy's concern but began to turn away, "Oh and…" Angela started, beginning to turn back before stopping herself mid thought and smiling softly, "Nevermind. I hope you feel better."

Buffy watched as she sped off up the stairs, the picture of efficiency with a straight back and unhurried movements. What was that all about? Had they for some reason decided not to tell the Ministry about her? What did that mean about the dream, somehow she couldn't picture her Professors as the wizards torturing her, but that they hadn't said anything yet didn't mean they never would, and what had Angela been about to say?

That at least was revealed when she saw the Ravenclaw table, along with another thing she hadn't thought to question; why she had been woken on a Sunday morning when there was no real reason to rise. With thoughts of discovery and endless torture foremost in her mind it wasn't until she saw the cake surrounded by the grinning faces of most of the fifth years that Buffy remembered what day it was. That she had turned 18 while lost in a sea of pain.

~ to be continued... ~

_So... recently I've been trying to plan how to destroy and/or take over the world... it's an enlightening experience and, annoyingly, more difficult than you'd think. Getting into an evil wizards mind and figuring out just how he would go about a certain course of action is bizarre to say the least. The worst part is trying to reason out the actions of both him and those he's interacting with._

_So... question... since I'm looking for inspiration for some DA scenes which are coming up... out of all the characters in DA who would you most like to see Buffy interact with (and if possible why)?_


	51. Prophetic Changes

_**A/N**- So... I'm back! And hopefully for a while. I'm now done with my uni for the summer. Only having to work 9-5 seems like a holiday after spending all my evenings reading or in lectures for the last year._

_I've noticed that over twisting the hellmouth and I have now breached the 1000 review mark. That's... just amazing. I'm always so surprised that even when I leave you for months on end, people still manage to find the story and (for the most part) enjoy it. Thank you everyone who reviewed, I hope you'll forgive me not responding to them all here, I'll try to send responses personally over the weekend but figured you'd all be more enthusiastic about an update ; )_

**_Prophetic Changes_**

Buffy waited in front of the door, forcing down the paranoia which seemed to come all to readily, brought on by the week of interrupted sleep which had culminated in last night's tortured dream. This could be nothing, her head of house routinely called her to discuss her progress, and either way there was nothing to be done.

"Come in." Flitwick's response to her knock came through the wood, and with a final calming breath Buffy entered the room.

The professor's office was in its usual state of disarray with nearly every flat surface covered in precarious stacks of scrolls. A small section of the desk and a chair in front of it were all that remained bare.

"Miss Summers!" he cheerfully exclaimed when she sat down, no longer hidden from his view by the mountains of paper, "Thank you for coming."

"Angela said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes." Buffy couldn't help but shrink before his serious gaze as he stared at her, assessed her, "A situation arose, and it seemed best..." He trailed off, still looking at her intently, "We are about to start Apparition training for all sixth year students as by the end of the year they will be 17 and eligible to take the test. Since you are-"

"Do I have to?" Buffy interrupted.

"I'm sorry?"

"Do I have to take the Apparition test? Is it one of the exams I need to do before I can…" She waved vaguely to the west.

"Before you can apply to go home?" the professor completed her sentence with a sympathetic smile, "No, competence in the standard magical subjects is all that's required."

"Then I'd prefer not."

"Good." His voice held undisguised relief at her words, that strange focus that had so unnerved her disappearing.

"Good?" Buffy asked, confused as to why she had been offered the opportunity when it was quickly becoming clear that his earlier hesitation had been because he hadn't wanted her to take it.

"I advised against you joining the lessons but the Headmaster insisted that you be given the option." Her flash of disappointment at those words was unexpected. Buffy had come here with a crazed fear that she was about to be betrayed, given over to those who would make last nights dream real, but this type of betrayal was worse and all too real.

Her head of house had been the only one to accept her, encourage her. Of all the staff he was the one who found it easiest to work around the gaps in her knowledge without the disappointment, annoyance or, in the case of Potions, anger this caused her other teachers. Buffy didn't even want to learn how to Apparate, but being told that the man she had come in some small way to rely on thought she shouldn't even be given the option hurt.

"Oh, okay…" she trailed off, looking about for something to distract from this feeling. She quickly gave up and stood abruptly, keen to escape. "Well if that's all…"

"Buffy." The sound of her name paused her retreat; he had always remained so formal in their meetings that the use of her first name was a shock, "Please do not imagine that my reluctance has any baring on you or your efforts since coming here. What you have achieved in this short time is impressive but while your control over your powers is commendable it is not yet complete." He waited for her to take in those words, to turn back to face him with wary hope shining in her eyes, "Apparition is deceptively simple in it's results but overwhelmingly complex to perform. It does not use wand movements or words to form the shape of the spell, this is left entirely up to the caster."

The sense of betrayal returned, "So… you don't think I'm good enough to do it?"

"There are many fully qualified wizards who never get their licence or rarely use it for fear of the consequences if they make an error. We teach this skill to seventeen year olds because they have had nearly six years of training to control their power, they have passed the exams that prove they have managed that feat."

"That's what I need to do to go home isn't it – prove I can control my power." She paused, not wanting to voice the thought, "And if you don't think I'm good enough…"

"Miss Summers!" He squeaked in exasperation before continuing in a more contained manner, "I have no doubt that you will achieve what the immigration authorities require. As I said, there are Wizards who have completed their NEWTs, who choose not to apparate beyond necessity. Its why we have alternate forms of wizarding transport."

Reassured, Buffy managed a small smile for the man who returned it with a stunned expression.

"You…" he stopped himself and once again she felt the sense of recognition in his expression, the feeling that he knew more about her than he let on.

She followed his eyes to the notice board with Umbridge's latest decree pinned upon it. The order prevented teachers from discussing anything besides lessons with students but as her head of house, the Charms Master was permitted to speak of certain things outside his speciality.

"Never mind, that's all."

Buffy gave the man a long look, wondering again what it was he thought he knew. Whatever it might be, it was clear he had no intention risking his tenure by speaking of it now, she thought of their discussion before Christmas and felt a wave of regret that they would never now be able to have the conversation she had run from.

"and Buffy?"

"Yes?"

He glanced again at the bulletin upon the board detailing the most recent decree before fixing his attention on her with an open smile, "Happy Birthday."

And what was strange was that so far, for the most part it had been. In the years since she was called, Buffy couldn't remember a time when this celebration hadn't been tainted by her duties. Here all she had to fear was her dreams. Dreams that left her with a growing suspicion that something terrible was going to happen, or already had. She couldn't help but think that her respite was over, that they were a message that the holiday was ending and her real life was going to restart.

Then again perhaps it was only proof that she was finally cracking; unable to fully accept that here she didn't have to fight every night for her continued existence.

* * *

The coin in her pocket burned, it's harsh heat alerting Buffy to another meeting. A boy on the far side of the classroom started, jolting the student beside him, sending whatever the girl had been spooning into her cauldron flying across the table. In a flurry of robes the professor was upon them, pouring something into the cauldron before the fizzing red bubbles, which had already consumed the spoon, could overflow onto the desk. Even with his speed a few droplets escaped the cauldron, landing with a hiss on the wood and burning neat round dents into the surface.

He placed both students in detention before rounding on the girl behind them, snapping at her to "Stop staring at the only Galleon you'll see." Ginny quickly hid away the coin she had been surreptitiously viewing and returned all attention to her own potion.

At times like this Buffy wondered if she was really as bad at deception as she thought. It had always seemed like she didn't have to put much real effort into hiding her calling; people in Sunnydale were all too keen to explain away anything strange. But here were the Gryffindor forth years pointlessly flaunting their secrets, without thought to the consequences of their actions. They managed to make her look good.

Not that the others didn't seem able to hide their actions, Luna was as lost in her own world as ever, gently poking a twig into her bright green potion with the tip of her wand. Buffy frowned, looking over the details on brewing the potion without finding any mention of whatever the girl was doing. Although, she took another look at the girl's potion, which was now nearing the correct shade of yellow, a sharp contrast to her own browning mixture. What ever Luna was doing seemed to work.

Her own potion gurgled loudly in response to Buffy's intent gaze, earning her a sneer from the Professor but none of the more cutting remarks she was used to in her 5th year class. Of course, she considered as the man whisked off to correct another mishap, in that class Ravenclaw wasn't paired with Gryffindor and, while his prejudices against the house were well known, the Gryffindor half of the classroom was generally where the more dangerous accidents occurred. Whether or not this meant his bias had a reason, Buffy was glad that it distracted from his antagonism towards her.

The coin itself had been a surprise, she had thought that they would continue to let Neville tell her about upcoming meetings, that word of mouth was how they worked, but this did seem to be a more secure plan. At least it was when the members of D.A. managed to hide their reactions to the coin's change. Harry, strangely enough, hadn't objected to Hermione giving her this tactile evidence of the club. Although it might have more to do with their current states than a display of trust.

It was hard to worry too much about someone when you are bone tired, when that person matches your exhaustion. Someone seemingly about to collapse at any time just doesn't instil the same amount of concern as one vibrant and full of life. Though Buffy was functioning, and her magic was as yet unaffected by her dreams, she wasn't getting any proper sleep, every night haunted by repeats of the nightmare she had awoken from on her birthday.

This time when she entered the great hall with the coin still burning in her pocket, craving attention, Anthony didn't give her knowing looks; his excitement was directed towards other things. This news, like any other, had spread through the school like wildfire and standing at the end of the top table was the subject of the student body's excitement. He stood tall and proud, his face displaying no acknowledgement of the attention he was receiving, only the occasional clatter of hooves shuffling nervously in place betrayed his awareness of the scrutiny.

The only person openly unimpressed by the new Divination Professor was glaring down from the teacher's table at the enthusiasm of the students, her pursed lips only easing when her attention passed to the more restrained Slytherin table.

"I wouldn't look if I was you" Cho Chang commented from across the table.

"Huh?" Buffy asked, surprised that the girl was speaking to her. They weren't friends, and even with her attendance at D.A. solidifying other relationships, those with the older students had remained largely unchanged.

"At Dumb-bridge, she's been seething all day."

"Cho!" The sixth year's friend sitting the other side berated her.

"What? You know it's true. Our High and mighty Inquisitor is annoyed that Dumbledore appointed a professor without her permission – and to cap it off, he gave the job to a centaur!" Cho grinned.

"Why would that matter?"

She shrugged, "She doesn't like magical beings. Didn't you see what she was like when Lupin was here?"

Buffy thought about her tutor's visit, Umbridge's reaction to his presence had seemed like those made by many others although perhaps intensified by her forced proximity, "Yeah, but a lot of the students were scared of him." Buffy hadn't missed Marietta's flinch when the werewolf was mentioned, the girl getting more sullen as her friend insulted the D.A.D.A teacher.

"And for a good reason." The girl commented under her breath.

Not hearing her friend's comment, Cho relied to Buffy, "There's a difference between being cautious around a dangerous creature and actively trying to destroy their lives. Anyway, it's well known that Umbridge hates all humanoid magical creatures, she refuses to think of them as anything other than animals. What was she tried to do to the Sprites Mari?"

Cho finally turned to her friend, her expression changing to one of confusion when she saw how uncomfortable she had become, "She just made sure the clans cant get large enough to be a threat…"

"Yeah, destroying their way of life! And she changed the rules so that it is impossible for werewolves to get any work." Anthony broke in with his comments, having slipped in beside Buffy during the conversation. He glanced up at the head table and jumped in his seat when bulging eyes met his. "The next D.A.D.A. is going to be hell"

"It's a pity. She'd almost been getting better recently." The professor had apparently began to worry about her students passing the exams at the end of the year and had began to give them quizzes for part of the lesson. It was a sad sign that tests were considered respite from the forced silent reading. Even that had been more relaxed recently, the professor too distracted by her own thoughts to worry about her pupils passing notes.

"She was probably sitting there planning how she'd get rid of Trelawny. Not only did she get one upped by the Headmaster when he chose Firenze, Umbrige didn't even get to chuck her out of the school."

"When do you have it?"

"Last period"

Buffy couldn't help but grin at his forlorn expression, "Good luck. I've got until tomorrow."

"You too – you never know the wait might just give her time to seethe."

"Thanks." She laughed at the hope in his voice, and looked back to the top table not to the woman they'd been discussing but at the professor who was a real threat to her.

Buffy should have been scared. She should have been terrified by the recognition she saw twinkling in Firenze's bright blue eyes, worried by the prospect of being revealed, but like so many things at the moment she couldn't bring herself to care. Her days were spent in limbo, with memories of nightmares at the forefront of her mind, and the nights… at night she returned to hell.

* * *

_She pulled wildly at the chains that bound her arms to the uneven rock of the walls that surrounded her. Dark hair flew around her face as she struggled to get out of the heavy manacles that were holding her. Anger rose up in her as she saw the strangely robed men that had trapped her here approaching through the cavern like room, positioning themselves on the unnatural markings on the stone floor-_

_**Through a curtain of flames rose the beast, a creature larger than anything she had seen. She was so focussed on the snake's head rearing up before her that she barely avoided the tail whipping round…**_

_A picture, an image in a book. A magnificent creature. Whispers echoed inside her mind, ordering her to speak, to tell them all she knew. Buffy rebelled, instinctively trying to do what she did when her thoughts were invaded, and somehow trapped in this dream that worked, helped hide her thoughts from this invading presence-_

_**A huge creature running full pelt at her lent back on its powerful hind legs for a moment before leaping, teeth bared and claws outstretched…**_

_Exhausted by her efforts of mind and body, she finally gave up her attempts to free herself and let herself fall limply from the chains that bound her to the rock that was her prison. Hair hanging matted and grubby around her face, she awaited the next action of her captors-_

_**A tall man stood surrounded by black robed figures, their faces covered with masks, only slits showing the eyes of the people beneath, his own eyes flashed an intense red as he saw her and he moved aside to reveal…**_

Buffy sat straight upright in her bed and scrambled to get out of the sweat drenched sheets. She was still shaking from her own reactions to the dream and the slayer side of her was active_, _clamouring to escape from the chains she imposed upon it. Parts of the dream still seemed so real it felt like it was happening… or like a memory, but the others were fuzzy, distorted by strange echoes, reminiscent of her prophecy dreams.

Exhausted, Buffy glanced at the clock and rolled over, she may only be returning to a restless sleep but the last few weeks had proven that anything was better than nothing and she would get no rest undisturbed by dreams of torture.

* * *

It had been too long since Buffy had visited Rowena's study, not only because she was now with her friends on the evenings that they were absent from the common room, or even because of the effect her disturbed dreams had on her, but because of a scrap of parchment that risked revealing everything.

Buffy had thought that Harry's dislike was merely suspicion and jealousy left over from their encounter at the beginning of the year, but a confrontation in D.A quickly dissuaded that notion. The map that he used to ensure their safe passage from the D.A. room must go further than she had thought. He knew about her trips to the forest, or some of them at least, and wanted to know the reason for them. She regretted the anger her refusal to comment caused, not that he seemed to expect an explanation. He was merely letting her know that revealing his secret would result in a disclosure of her own.

Tonight she knew it was safe; Harry would be in a remedial potions class, according to the loud jeering comments made by Draco Malfoy following his discovery of this fact. Buffy had debated warning the boy about the man he was spending time with, but the hateful gaze directed to the staff table was evidence enough that rumours of the pairs mutual dislike were true. Harry wasn't about to trust a man, even one with the authority of a Professor, unless he was given good reason to.

But when Buffy entered the secret room, tired by the recent lack of sleep but energised in anticipation of the fight to come, her opponent was nowhere to be found. She searched through the rows of bookshelves surrounding the central room that the statue was normally waiting in but still could not locate Camilla. Realising that she wasn't in the domed room, Buffy went looking in the bedroom off Rowena's study and finally mounted the spiral staircase.

It was there, on the pagoda like structure on the roof of the school that she finally found Camilla. She was sitting on the edge of the platform looking east over the rooftops towards the forest and the moon rising in the dusky sky, her legs hanging down from between the bannisters of the railings over the drop below. When she failed to respond to Buffy's greeting she reached out and touched the statue, finding for the first time in months the hard, cold sensation of lifeless stone beneath her hand before it reluctantly transformed into the warmer living marble Buffy was used to.

"Why are you up here?" Buffy asked, hugging her arms around her body in an attempt to ward off the cool breeze that whipped about them.

"Why are you?" was the statue's retort, made without moving an inch. Stone was impervious to the weather. "I thought you weren't coming back."

Buffy laughed nervously, in an attempt to lighten the dark mood brought on by "Why would you think that?"

"Eventually they all stop coming back." Camilla still didn't move, didn't turn to look at Buffy and so instead she joined the statue in her vigil. That was the only reason she was close enough to hear the words that followed, "And I'm left alone again."

She hadn't thought before how many other slayers this girl must have known, trained, befriended and then lost. To think of that was to acknowledge her own mortality, that she was just another in a never-ending line of slayers. That her duty was to fight, to protect those who can't protect themselves, to die in the process.

"I just…" the statue continued after a lengthy pause, "I didn't want to be stuck in that room this time. If I have to wait again I want to see time pass me by."

They sat in silence, both trapped in their own thoughts of loss, of death. Watching the gibbous moon rise from behind the forest.

"I'm sorry I've been gone so long. It's been hard to get away-" Buffy started to explain but stopped. How do you apologise for, however inadvertently, making someone believe you were dead? Why would her Mother want to write to her if this was how she felt? No, Buffy shook off the thoughts that her mind too often travelled along lately, knowing that it was too long for any delusions of delayed mail to be true. She couldn't think of that now, now she had to deal with a thousand year old statue with an abandonment complex.

"I joined a club that meets in the evenings. You remember what I said about how useless the lessons in defence against the dark arts were?" That finally got a response from Camilla, a flicker of interest in the sullen expression as it turned to face her companion, "Well some of the students have a secret club to learn what the Professor wont teach them."

"You've been learning to fight with a wand?"

"Yes."

"What sort of spells?" for once Camilla was interested in something magical, it's potential in battles was the only aspect that was of any concern to her, and when she had learnt that Buffy wasn't being taught any of the spells involved in magical combat her attention quickly started to wander following any mention of Buffy's classes.

"It's mostly been simple things like disarming and shielding. Some counter curses too."

"Learning by repetition so the spells become instinctual?"

Buffy didn't bother to answer, just grinned in response to Camilla's knowledge of magical fighting. Or her understanding that it was in reality just like training in any physical combat, both spells and stances had to be repeated until the trainee was beyond bored, until they became ingrained in your muscle, in your magic. "We've even been learning to cast left handed so I should be able to have a sword as well."

The statue frowned, "That's not a good idea. Ric always said it was best to use your primary hand for a wand, something about the way the magic flowed."

"Okay, so I have to get better at wielding a sword left-handed won't I?"

"Yes" Camilla stood and headed downstairs, drawing her long knives and throwing a blade to Buffy as soon as they reached the domed room.

"Show me."

* * *

"Hedwig came back."

Buffy looked up, surprised to hear such an innocuous statement in amongst the taunts and jibes flying alongside spells across the field. She had ended up near to the three Gryffindors who were refereeing the battle; close enough to hear their conversation as they observed the fights.

The D.A. room she had entered earlier that evening was completely different to its usual appearance. Instead of a classroom, the club was dotted about a huge cavernous space that was strangely reminiscent of the great hall at the Federal Bureau in Salem. This too was a gigantic cave, but where that space had been tamed into something civilized, this was still wild, raw rock providing hiding places and distractions. These rare examples of the true power of magic were disconcerting at times; a seemingly simple room able to appear as both one thing and another.

She assessed her surroundings, spotting the Weasley twins just before her casting off spell after spell towards Michael Corner and Zacharias Smith. One of the twin's wands jumped from his hand as a spell got in past a momentarily lowered shield and Buffy tensed, ready to leave her spot and help her teammates. Before she could come to their aid they moved, the other twin, George according to the 'G' on his jumper, threw his own wand towards his brother and diving towards the discarded weapon. Fred quickly shielded the stunners directed at him and managed to stun Zacharias, who had turned from him without checking that his spells had impacted. A moment later Michael joined his friend on the ground, limbs flailing uncontrollably, taken down by George who had retrieved his twin's wand.

"How is he? What did he say about…" the interest in Hermione's voice disappeared as she yelled, "Stunners, shields and disarming spells only George, 10 min off the field. Smith you're out for 5."

"What? He wasn't even using his own wand when he stunned me." Zacharias yelled once released, Hermione and Ron countering the curses on him and Michael.

"It doesn't matter what wand they used – you were stunned so you're out of the game for 5 min, those are the rules." Ron shouted at the boy who finally did as instructed, moving over to join George in the safe zone, where combatants were to wait our of the battle for five minutes once taken down.

"Merlin!" Ron continued at a lower volume to his friends, "He was the one who complained about us not having 'realistic' fights, what's more real than using every advantage?"

"They can switch wands?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, they've always been able to"

"And they still get as good results?" They watched Fred prove this point by sending off a collection of spells to incapacitate a still reeling Michael, his brother's wand in hand, "Wow."

"What's Smith's problem with it anyway?" Harry asked.

"Well… it's pretty rare to be able to use someone else's wand that easily."

"It is?"

"Each wand grows to fit a wizards magic so it will always work best for its owner, spells from another's wand are often weak, misdirected or go wrong. You have to be pretty powerful or have very similar magical resonances to get good results." Hermione glanced back at Fred "I suppose it's not that surprising, family members are often close enough magically to use one another's wands, but rarely that well."

The trio watched the fight before them in silence until Hermione prompted Harry to continue their earlier conversation, "What did Lupin say?"

With the level of noise rising as members became engrossed in the battle, it was hard to make out their conversation, but the mention of Remus caught Buffy's attention.

"He's fine." Harry sighed; handing a roll of parchment to the girl that was eagerly unrolled, her eyes darting across the page. "He doesn't really say anything about it, just that they're busy." Ron looked at Harry sharply at the bitter tone in his voice; he shrugged, shaking away some of the anger and continuing with an air of resignation, "I don't know where it came from, but Hedwig's exhausted."

"What do you think they could be doing?" Ron asked eagerly, not seeming to notice the scowl his words caused in his friend.

Harry shrugged, a haunted look that Buffy knew all to well flickering over his features "I don't know… after the breakout _he _kept getting happier, excited and then…"

Instinctively Buffy raised a shield, deflecting the spell coming towards her and turned to find a grinning Cho quickly casting a barrage of spells towards her. As she fought Buffy struggled to remain in range of the Gryffindor's conversation, keen to hear anything she could about the werewolf.

"You really shouldn't-" Hermione bit off her reprimand.

"Don't Hermione, he's trying okay. Maybe it just has to get worse before it gets better." Ron paused, "You _are_ trying, right."

"Of course." Harry answered, all to quickly.

"But Harry, these dreams-" Hermione began, only to be cut off.

"Dreams?" He angrily turned to Ron.

"Harry don't be silly, Ron didn't need to tell anyone. Last night, you woke half the tower. You just need to-"

"I am trying!" he yelled, getting the attention of many of those fighting before continuing in a fierce whisper, "It's not like I want to see…"

"What is it Harry?" Hermione asked patiently when it became evident that Harry wasn't going to continue, "They've been bad since January. Even if it does normally get worse before it gets better, shouldn't it be improving by now? How are the exercises-"

"It's not easy to clear your mind, it's not easy to do anything when you haven't really slept in a fortnight. Especially with Snape attacking me at least once a week…"

"Why wont you tell us-"

They stood in silence for so long that Buffy thought the conversation was over; they hadn't said much about her… friend… teacher… it was hard to say what the werewolf was to her. To quantify the relationship that had developed over a single day from a spark of understanding into a blaze that somehow bound them. But as Buffy allowed her attention to wander from the trio, Harry finally answered, and his words changed everything.

"She's our age." He started, almost unaware of Hermione as he finally spoke of his nightmares, "Every night I go into the room where she's chained to the floor and torture her."

Hermione's gasp overlaid Buffy's, masking her eavesdropping now that her entire attention was focussed on the group, "Harry, you have to tell the Headmaster!"

"What good would it do? I don't know where she is. If the Order knew where he was hiding, they would have attacked months ago. There's no way to save her."

"Then what…" she stopped when Harry ignored her interruption.

"The worst part is that every time I feel his disappointment I know they've failed, I know she hasn't told them yet, I know they will be doing worse to her soon… and I can't help but feel a bit glad, because whatever it is she knows, he thinks that will make all the difference."

In the moment when Buffy knew for certain, knew that Harry was somehow seeing what she was dreaming of, a spell flew at her and knocked her off her feet.

~ to be continued... ~

_Why does nothing end up coming out quite as I expected? Ah well... at least we're moving towards some answers to those questions you've all been at me to reveal. Please try to remember though... that, in my experience anyway, the answer to one question generally only raises even more questions (often of the 'Why?' variety... but that could just be because I have a 5yr old nephew)._


	52. That Which Binds Us

_**A/N:-** I didn't take 6 months! Yay. I think I might try to keep a fortnightly update schedule as my social calendar is rather full this summer so I know I'm incapable of more (it's nice to feel popular on occasion). Although… I can't promise that what I'm updating will be KttP – I keep getting inspiration for Chosen and a wonderful set of reviews of that story I just got aren't helping._

_On that note… any of you who are pleased about the (relative) speed of this update should thank DemonKittyAngel whose interesting discussions have kept me on the straight and narrow. As most of you probably know by now I find it impossible to write both stories in tandem (I get too lost in whichever world I'm writing to easily switch to another) so you should be happy she's keeping me interested in Harry Potter… or, if you prefer Chosen, not I suppose… just let me know and I'll go indulge myself ;)_

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, reading your kind comments and intriguing ideas as ever helps inspire me. Thank you , EarwenTelrunya, sunraek, DemonKittyAngel, Fantasy-Manua31 and enchantedlight_

_sunreak (as the only reviewer I am unable to respond to in PM) - Thank you so much for your comments (and enthusiasm). I'm glad that my characters have managed to stay true to form. Feel free to let me know if I ever loose that._

_Now onto the important bit..._

_**That Which Binds Us**_

Afterwards Buffy didn't remember the rest of the lesson, she somehow completed the training exercise without drawing attention to herself, going through the motions of battle without any thought being involved. Her whole mind was instead focussed on what had been said, what Harry had seen.

It was happening now; that at least she had gathered from the Gryffindor's conversation, somehow Harry was able to see into the mind of the torturer as Buffy was there in the body being tortured. If the dreams weren't so similar she might have had doubts, believed the rumours that flew about the school spurred on by libellous comments in the wizarding newspaper. But they were, and if this wasn't a warning of a future she had to avoid then it had to be a call to arms, a call she had ignored for a fortnight while another girl was tortured nightly.

Buffy felt sick.

She would like to believe that she would feel this sense of fury, of urgency even without the dreams, but Buffy had to admit that feeling, living her counterpart's pain had added desperation to her need to find this girl.

Buffy tried not to let it affect her, tried to do a job that before had always involved many more minds, brains far superior to her own. To figure out what was going on, find out how to save a girl she had no chance of locating. And with the boy's history 'he' could only be You-Know-Who, the most feared wizard in their world, a wizard most were still claiming was dead and gone. Buffy considered going to the Headmaster, try to convince him that her dreams were real, that they needed to find the wizard responsible. But then even Harry hadn't had any hope that he could help, and there was the other reason, the memory of him sitting next to Snape at dinner that evening, grinning at the man's scowl.

Dumbledore, the wizarding world's famous champion laughing with a man affiliated with the people who have done this, who have captured a girl and tortured her for the better part of a month. The feeling of nausea grew and Buffy knew that she couldn't do it, cant trust a man who gives his friendship so freely to such a despicable person. But without help of better wizards, how was she supposed to find, let alone defeat, a wizard skilled enough that the whole magical world feared him, a world she still knew next to nothing about.

While she considering her options in the hard armchairs of the Ravenclaw common room she slipped in and out of uncomfortable sleep, her ever-fractured dreams confirming what she now knew to be true. Returning to that surreal place where she was in constant agony, where nothing felt quite right. Knowing that it wasn't her changed things; altered her perspective on what she saw. As the wizard attempted to force his way into the mind she hid within for the umpteenth time, fighting to break barriers down in search of what he wanted to know, fighting and failing. Always failing to control this body that, even in its current state, had walls as strong as Buffy's, instinctive wards against intrusion, preventing any outside control.

In a half awake state, stuck between the pain of the dream and the hopelessness of not knowing what to do she heard a thought that so closely mirrored her own and yet hadn't come from her. It came from the dream where a girl was being barraged by spells. Those words forced her to accept what she had been refusing to, admit how very familiar this body felt, how familiar the power flowing within it was and the harsh reality of what that meant.

'Giles will find me. They will come.'

The one and only person she could imagine having this connection with, the only one who would manage to live through the things she had experienced was meant to be in Sunnydale. Living in her mother's house, protecting her family.

Instead the other slayer, Faith, was bound in chains.

She wished Giles were here, any of the Scoobies. Someone to bounce ideas off, one person she could trust… she contemplated visiting the statue, but although Camilla was a fantastic trainer she wasn't good at making plans, still acting like the child she had been when she died.

Watchers… the image of an imposing building surrounded by high black railings flashed through her thoughts and she knew whom she should go to for help. Giles may not be here, but she was stuck in the land of tweedy librarians, and their headquarters were only a train journey away. Where better to find out where a slayer was than from those charged with the duty of aiding them in their battle?

* * *

"Good evening, Slayer."

In her rush she hadn't seen him, hidden in the dappled shadows cast by the cloud shrouded moon. Although how he had managed the feat eluded her, now that he had greeted her his white-blond hair and body stood out sharply against the dark of the night, some centaur trick she supposed.

"This is not the way to the Forest." Firenze commented, eyes following the path Buffy had been taking towards the gat out of school grounds.

"No… I wasn't…" She paused, wary. The centaurs seemed willing to keep her secrets, but this one was a teacher at the school and Buffy couldn't help but worry about where his loyalties now lay. Especially with the bruises of hoof prints still visible on his hide.

"Do not fear. I may have betrayed my kind by coming here, but I will not betray confidences, yours or theirs"

She found something recognisable in the sincerity of his eyes, in the soft tone that Buffy couldn't help but trust. "I… I'm going."

"Going?" he asked, that melodic voice encouraging confidence.

"I have to get out… get to London."

He nodded, looking over to the Forest but seemingly seeing further, through the cloud to something beyond, "Pluto rose early tonight."

The centaur stood like that for a long moment, staring off into the night lost in thought or perhaps seeing something she was unable to. Just as Buffy gave up on him saying any more and resumed her brisk walk he held out a hand to stop her, "Come, I know a quicker path."

He urged her on in a quick jog, trotting along beside her before coming to an abrupt halt as they neared the forest, searching for something in amongst the trees.

"How is this faster… I need" There was a sense of urgency in the discovery that this was happening now that hadn't been there when she thought it was something that might happen to her.

"Slayer" a new voice intoned, "I had not expected to meet you this night"

"Arno." Firenze greeted the other centaur cautiously, hooves digging at the ground in preparation for a quick escape if one was needed, watching Arno carefully as he came towards them from the shadows of the trees.

The dark centaur looked the new professor up and down, eyes settling for a moment on the still visable brusing on his flank before meeting his eyes, "Brother."

The familial greeting allowed Firenze to relax, his usually solemn face breaking into a relieved smile.

"Nice to see you again Mr. Centaur, but I really need to get…"

"You will not make it if you travel by foot." Firenze told her.

"I have until morning, if I can find a train..."

"You will be lucky to have a few hours beyond the boarders of this valley. Your magic is wild, barely tamed and it will quickly be found."

So that was how they had found her, tracing the raw magic flowing off an untrained wizard. If they could still sense her then they would capture her long before she got to London. Perhaps if she broke into the post office and used some floo powder… but there was nowhere she knew an open fire would be, "Then there's no point."

In her dejection, wondering who out of the teachers she would have to trust to get herself a trip to London, what lies or half-truths she could get away with telling, Buffy missed an exchange between the two centaurs; Firenze silently asking for permission from Arno who, after a moments consideration, nodded.

"Do not worry Slayer, there are other ways to travel."

Arno turned to her gracing her with a slight smile that, like his bright blue eyes, was the mirror of his brother's, "Follow me Slayer, we must hurry."

He galloped off with Buffy running close behind at a speed that was at the edge of even her abilities, stopping her frantic race after him when she realised that they were not heading out of the grounds.

"Where are we going?" she got out through laboured breaths, "I thought you couldn't apparate within Hogwarts grounds." She remembered seeing the trail of sixth years leaving the castle under the guardianship of Flitwick, heading outside the grounds to Hogsmeade where their Apparation training was to take place.

"What we will be doing is older than apparition, older than the parlour tricks humans now call magic. Their wards cannot stop it." Arno watched her for a moment, allowing her to recover from the gallop, "Come we have little time before dawn."

"What about Firenze?" Buffy asked, looking back to the pale form that had remained a safe distance back from the forest, watching them race away.

"My brother is no longer welcome within our herd and cannot venture into the forest." He entered the forest, moving at a brisk run but slower now that he had to navigate between the trees, "Be wary in future, his choice has angered many."

They eventually had to slow even this pace, moving into the denser forest where the centaur could no longer run and Buffy voiced the question she had wanted to ask the centaurs since first meeting them all those months ago. It was rare for her to meet them in the forest and rarer still to find one so amiable, this wasn't a chance she could let pass.

"Do you know why?"

"Your reasons for travelling are…"

"No" Buffy interrupted, "do you know why wizards forgot about slayers?"

He shrugged, a motion that rippled down powerful shoulders and along his equine back, "Their magic and your powers do not blend well."

"And?" Buffy prompted, hoping that the centaur's tendency for elusive answers wouldn't prevent him saying more.

Arno paused and looked at her closely with eyes that still seemed full of stars, of prophecy, "We do not know much of that time, the forests were larger and our races lived far apart. I have only heard what was read in the stars, that barriers were breached. Whatever happened scared the humans enough that they vowed to keep demons and wizards apart."

And they continued to walk. Finally after hours weaving through the trees, Arno paused again "Here we are."

Arno gestured ahead to a circular gap in the trees with a pool at it's centre that seemed to glow like a star, pure waters capturing the moonlight surrounded by magical beasts with a similar light shining from them. Buffy took inaudible steps forward, closer to the powerful creatures about the pool who, despite the lack of sound all paused their actions, frozen in fear. The largest of the unicorns, a stallion moved between the herd and the pair entering the glade, proudly lowering his horn in warning as, with a whinny, he directed those under his care to leave. Once all the others had fled, he left with a final neigh in Buffy's direction.

"I didn't realise Unicorns were so scared of humans." She commented, disappointed that these elusive denizens of the forest had not stayed.

"It is not humans that they fear, although they are wary of them also. They will not suffer the presence of your kind. Unicorns are pure, creatures of innocence, peace."

"And I am stained in blood." She took a step back, away from the beautiful glade. Did she have the right to corrupt a place so tranquil with her presence? But then Arno had brought her here, they must need this place to get her to London.

"Wait here," Arno ordered, "the others will be here soon."

"But when did you-" He hadn't contacted anyone as far as she could tell, and yet she could hear that his words were right, the faint rhythmic thumping of hooves drawing closer.

"They will come to see what has disturbed the glade, what scattered the Unicorns."

They stepped out from the trees into the clearing. Drawing closer to the pool she could feel the power radiating, not from the Unicorns that had surrounded it as she originally thought but from the glade itself. Buffy tried to place the feeling, the familiar taste of this power.

"This is the centre of all the power in the valley."

That was it, she realised. This felt like the ambient magic flowing through every brick of the school, but stronger. So much stronger.

"What are you doing with this Human?" The centaurs had arrived on the far side of the glade, a ring of warriors pointing their deadly poisoned arrows with ease in her direction. Buffy tensed, she might have been able to take a couple of them before any got in a shot, but even with slayer strength and speed you only need one nick for poison to enter your blood. No-one was that lucky.

"How dare you bring one of her kind to this place?" The origin of the voice came forward and Buffy realised that the arrows weren't only pointed at her but also at the centaur beside her. She edged to one side, prepared to prevent him from being punished for trying to help her, but Arno had no need for her protection.

He boldly faced the greying centaur warrior without a trace of apology, "She is not a Human, She is the Slayer."

The grumbles of the centaurs indicated that some of them, like the unicorns, saw this is even worse.

"She is allied with them, lives at the school" Their leader spat out the final word in distaste.

"And we owe her a great debt, or are we to act like them and forget our vows?" That idea seemed to shock the centaurs, some of the archers even lowering their bows at the power of Arno's words. Debts and promises meant a great deal to their race.

It hadn't rested well on the old centaur, the anger, and it was only when his face relaxed that she recognised him for the elder she had met the first time she had encountered centaurs in the forest. The one who had been so kind and understanding. Had Firenze's actions changed so much that it could turn one such as him against her, any human.

"You are here to seek reward for the deed you performed for us?" He asked formally.

"I…" Buffy looked at Arno, who nodded encouragingly, "There is another Slayer and I think she has been captured. I need to find her."

"Even with the power of this glade, we do not have what would be necessary to locate your sister." With the reminder of Buffy's recent help he seemed genuinely regretful that they were not able to aid her.

"No… I want to go to London. I think the Watchers…"

"Ah, yes. The Guardians must have a means of finding your kind." He paused, intense dark eyes looking over at Arno, trying to judge just what the younger centaur had revealed before finally giving in, "That we may be able to help you with."

* * *

This wasn't anything like the magic she was learning at Hogwarts, no simple words and instant reactions for the centaurs. Like their conversation they took their magic at a slower pace, carefully considering to ensure that words and intentions perfectly coincide.

The centaurs had lit fires on the rocky ground surrounding the pool, a pool which closer inspection revealed wasn't a rough circle as might have been expected but shaped like a star burst, points emerging around an almost perfect circle. This bizarre shape hadn't shaped by mortal hands, but was the natural formation of the rock in the glade, caused by the interaction of the powerful magic with the moon's light.

At each point of this burst of light a small blaze was kindled, burning woods and herbs, filling the glade with scented smoke as the centaurs chanted in an unknown tongue, a chant accompanied as only centaurs could by the stamping of hooves, their rhythm something akin to the beat of her heart. Arno was constantly moving about the clearing, directing the proceedings with the group of archers trying to follow his orders, these fighters unused to ritual.

Only Chrixon stood at the edge of the glade by Buffy watching the others. He confirmed her suspicions that her friendly centaur was a scholar among their kind, one of those more knowledgeable in the study of the stars and the magic of the earth. The elder centaur, though wise as his entire race appeared to be, could not, he said, have formed the spell they were now attempting to achieve.

Finally, as the skies began to lighten Arno approached the point where Chrixon and Buffy watched the preparations. "It is not quite as I would have liked, but we must try this now, before we loose the last of the moonlight. I will place you as close as we can, the magic there should help to disguise your presence."

"That's great, t..."

"Buffy," She turned to him, surprised at the use of her name when the centaurs had been so consistent in calling her by her title, "The method they use is most likely tied to your blood, to your power. If you do not wish to make your presence known, you will need to follow its pull."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, Slayer. You did us a great service protecting one of our young. I am glad that we can also help you save one of your kind, although I fear if the one who has her is who I suspect, even the Guardian's may not be up to the task."

With Buffy still stewing over those final words, he lead her into the centre of the ring of fires and, at the edge of the still glowing pool that stood a clear void in the midst of the smoke that somehow surrounded but failed to encroach on it, gestured her forwards. A light shove, sent Buffy stumbling out into the pool, but she didn't fall into the deep waters below. Somehow the surface of the glowing waters held strong beneath her weight.

She slipped slightly on the glassy material but moved when urged by Arno to the centre of the starburst. There she could feel the full force of the power of this place, looking down into the currents of fresh water running through the silvery glow of the pool, dimmer now that the moon was setting in the west. It's light eclipsed somewhat by the lightening sky as the sun threatened to rise.

She waited as the thrum of chanting continued around her, muffled by the haze of smoke that hid those making the sound. It was distorted, twisting like the magic around her, flowing through her entering every fibre of her being. For a moment Buffy feared that this, this overwhelming sense of magic engulfing every part of her would waken the slayer, cause that thing within to fight this magic, but this was a benevolent power and the creature within her felt no need to rise against it. The magic, rhythm and chanting reached a crescendo and she looked up to find the last of the moon light shining directly into the pool from above.

In an instant the dawn that the centaurs had been racing in their ritual, speeding to get the spell completed before it broke and shattered the magic of the pool, the light that had been threatening to break over the forest dulled to dusky skies. She was in a flat grassy space, and for a moment, disorientated by what had happened Buffy was motionless, but then she remembered the warnings of the Centaurs, that the Ministry might trace her magic. If she wanted to get what she needed she would have to hurry, find it before the morning brought questions of her location and a reason to search for her.

Buffy quickly left the park she had appeared in and headed, not towards the front of the Watcher's Headquarters but to the road that ran alongside it. Any attempt to enter by the main door would no doubt immediately draw the attention of those within, and though she had come here for aid, she had spent too much time hiding this year to expect it to be easily given. Better to do as Arno had suggested, hunt down whatever it was they used to find Slayers and locate Faith herself.

As she clambered over the wall that guarded the Council's property she felt a wave of something pass over her, magic Buffy realised in surprise, but why would this place be protected by spells when no wizards were meant to know about her kind. The wards delved into her, tasting her power and a wave of dizziness passed over her, leaving her feeling weak as if she had just gone through an intense practical charms lesson. She paused, leaning against the wall but as ever the slayer power rose within her to fill the lack, giving her back her strength.

Over the last few months she had become used to this sensation, and though it still made her wary to feel the power that had overwhelmed her so completely rise up within, she no longer worried that it might take control again. It seemed that without the extreme circumstances that had occurred in the alley that night, the break down of the barriers of soul between her powers, they could not merge. Or was it that she hadn't reached that sense of desperation needed to trigger the animal hidden within, to trigger an Animagus transformation, Buffy wasn't certain why but she had come to accept that there wasn't any immediate danger of the slayer taking over again.

Feeling rejuvenated and oddly energised, Buffy looked around her, taking note of the strong defences on the windows and doors of the building. The Watchers knew that by helping the one who fought the demons of this world they were inviting attack and protected their home appropriately. The one area that appeared to be less well guarded was a structure that annexed onto the main building. It appeared to be a chapel, although Buffy couldn't see any religious symbolism on the outer structure, adorned instead with the insignia of the council. The windows were high and arched to the roof which stood over two floors above the ground and the heavy wooden door seemed remarkably badly secured compared to the sturdy metal gates and barred windows adorning the rest of the building.

Buffy crept to the doorway without alerting anyone behind the lit windows dotted about, Watchers apparently keeping Slayer's hours even without a slayer to watch. As she suspected the old door was only held in place by heavy bolts from the inside, with no attempts made to modernise the security in this place as it had been for the other entrances. She pulled hard, putting all her strength into it, and after a series of groans the bolts gave way, flying out of the wood and allowing the door to crash open.

She stepped through the doorway, quickly pulling the door to behind her to mask her entrance though the bolts that held it in place were gone, leaving it hanging ajar. Inside the space felt even more like a place of worship with it's vaulted ceiling and lines of benches facing a raised area at the far end, however still there was no sign of a crucifix, and on the platform instead of an altar there was a hexagonal stone table with a large bowl carved into it topped by a pillar that reached up to the roof. Buffy puzzled over what this could be as she turned towards where this space was joined onto the main building and found herself facing the back of a statue. For a second she thought Camilla had somehow followed her to London, so similar was the marble figure before her, but then Buffy realised that this statue was larger than life, double the size of Camilla and it was motionless, carved from lifeless stone.

Buffy walked in front of the statue, to where with a sword and knife drawn it guarded the entrance to this place from the Council headquarters, and looked back down the monumental room, finally realising what this place was. The shelves that covered every inch of the walls weren't merely for decoration, they held urns, and before most of these vessels were weapons, their metal dull in the dim light filtering in through tall windows. This wasn't a church; it was a mausoleum. A monument and resting place for Slayers.

And if the worn benches and paths were anything to go by, it was a place frequently visited by the Watchers, with many of the nearby pigeonholes containing flowers or candles in remembrance of the girl, the Slayer contained within.

She had spent too many of her teenaged years in graveyards not to have wondered how she would be remembered. If her accomplishments would ever be acknowledged or if her grave would just be seen as that of another mediocre teen dying tragically young. She had known that the diaries, Giles' record of her time as a Slayer would live on as a record for those few who might read them, but this, this memorial to the strength and courage of young girls called to duty, this declaration of love for their charges, was something she had never expected from reserved watchers.

Noticing an inscription on the base of the statue, Buffy moved closer, completely forgetting in her interest in this place that she should be moving on, quickly hunting down what she needed to find the other Slayer and save her from her torment, prevent her joining their sisters on those shelves. Before she could read the inscription the door behind her slammed open and she heard the unmistakable sound of a crossbow bolt being drawn into place.

"Turn around with your hands where I can see them."

~ to be continued… ~

_**A/N:-** So I'm feeling all proud of myself because last night I figured out an aspect of Voldemort's plan that has been bugging me for a while (the only way I could think of doing it just didn't work… and now it does!). Yay. And in part related to this I thought I 'd ask a question… A few times I've found myself replying to reviews of emails with comments like 'you can figure it out if you think about what Voldemort wants' and one person sensibly came back to me saying essentially 'well that's all well and good, but it's what you think he wants isn't it?'. And yes, yes it is what I think he wants because… well this whole story likely mirrors my perceptions of the world (wizarding or otherwise). So anyway… the question is what do you think is (or should be) important to Voldemort?_

_To be honest your responses (assuming I get any) probably won't change the main plot I have planned… cause I like it and it fits in with my views of life, the universe and everything. It will let me know just how much a shock what's coming might be to you guys… and… well… any reviews are good at bashing me over the head with plot ideas… which encourages me to write (see where I'm going with this?)._

_Aaand… because apparently I like giving out homework this fortnight… I have one more question. I've been trying to write an appropriate inscription for the statue and can't come up with anything (well that's a lie I come up with many things… none of them good enough). I've been getting inspiration from inscriptions on war memorials… so if you know anything appropriate that might help I'd love to hear it. I keep end up going back to using (some variation on) Churchill's Battle of Britain speech 'Never was so much owed by so many to so few' (partly just because it's fun to reassign those famous words to watchers…)._

_Of course I would also, as always, love to know what you thought of the chapter itself._


	53. Watching the Watchers

_**A/N:**__- Huzzah! I managed to keep my fortnightly update schedule (despite the distraction of increasingly nice weather). I have also managed to write some chunks of the next chapter and the one following it so updates should continue regularly for the time being (you might even get the next one early if I get enough writing done this weekend)._

_Thank you to DemonKittyAngel, enchantedlight, Serrafina, SarahMDillion, sunraek and babysayitisn'tso for your reviews. I loved getting your ideas for the inscription and thoughts about Voldemort's goals._

_sunaek - I know I don't need to respond to reviews... I just like to =D it gives me a chance to indulge in my obsession with this world by responding to your ideas and to thank those who take the time to comment on the story. The confrontation between Buffy and Harry is coming (not quite yet but soon...ish). It is inevitable at this point isn't it? _

_I agree - what Voldemort wants most is to escape death... well that and rule the world (forever one supposes). I hope you'll enjoy how this desire manifests in this story... and well done for handing your homework in promptly ; ). Oh and thank you so much for that quote... I think you hit what I wanted to say right on, and it goes perfectly with another part that I wanted to say so I might steal it if you don't mind?_

_I hope you enjoy!_

_**Watching the Watchers**_

Buffy turned slowly, hands held empty above her head, near the wand stuck firmly in the messy bun her hair was tied in. She must have missed some sort of alarm for there to be this strong a response. There were six of them in total, dark forms framed by the artificial light coming from the doorway, each with a crossbow ready in their hands. Too many to easily defeat without at least one of those bolts hitting her, and she had no doubt those facing her would both shoot accurately and take care not to waste their single bolt. They had after all received the same training as the man who had taught her those things.

"Check the room."

Two of the watchers peeled away from the group and circled about the edges of the room, careful to stay far out of Buffy's reach at all times. The pair checking the room crossed paths at the far end, ensuring that each side was carefully inspected by more than one pair of eyes, before returning to their positions before her.

"Nothing has been disturbed."

"What are you doing here?" Their leader demanded once all his troops were once again ready with their weapons aimed directly at her heart.

"I…" Buffy mentally kicked herself; she should have just knocked on the door but outside something had urged her not to, prevented her from risking having to reveal all. The months spent at Hogwarts had taken away any thought she had that someone might be willing let alone able to help her. And so faced by a group whose members had never been anything but kind to her she decided to violate their headquarters, sneak in like a thief in the night. Saying 'I came here for help' just felt stupid now, however true it might be.

"You really don't want that to be your only answer kid." In the growing light filtering through the mausoleum's tall windows she could see that this man meant his threat, they would attack without a good reason not to. With the creatures they routinely hunted anything else was suicide.

Before she could figure out what to say one of the other Watchers spoke, "Buffy?"

"You know the intruder Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?"

"Yes… well no." The young man stuttered. It was, Buffy realised, the boy she had met outside at Christmas. Apparently he had figured out later just why he recognised her, "It's Buffy Summers. She is The Slayer."

"That's me." Buffy chimed in, regretting it immediately when as one the Watcher's flinched, fingers tightening on their crossbow releases, "It would be nice if you didn't point those things at me."

Unsurprisingly none of them lowered their weapons, "Perhaps, if you just do something for us first."

Buffy saw his eyes flicker to the left where the nearest filled shelf but one contained no urn, just a sword and a plaque. Her vision blurred for a moment as she read the plaque, beginning to feel disjointed from events. The plaque bore her name, and that sword… she knew that sword intimately. It had been in so many of her dreams.

"Miss Summers."

Her name being barked at her made her turn back to the danger she was in, away from her… resting place wasn't really the right word since she wasn't there. Had never been there. It was surreal to come face to face with the location that would mark her death.

Something rolled across the stone floor to hit her foot. She knelt to pick it up and found that it was a small unmarked vial of clear liquid.

"Drink that." She was ordered, and she did without thought. They wouldn't intentionally kill her suspecting who she was, Buffy couldn't believe that of an organisation that Giles was a part of, so this was no doubt a test of some sort. Or laced with narcotics. She hoped it wasn't the latter; they needed to find Faith and couldn't afford more delays.

The Watchers waited for two full minutes, their leader periodically checking his watch to check the passing of time, before indicating at the end that their weapons could be lowered.

"Nice to meet you Miss Summers." He held out his hand to be shaken, the craggy features that had earlier seemed so foreboding breaking into a smile, "I think I know a few people who will be very interested to meet you."

Falling into step beside the man as he led his group out of the mausoleum, Buffy handed him back his vial, "What was in it?"

"Primarily holy water, but also some other substances that are…" his face twisted into a bitter grin, "unpleasant to those creatures capable of disguising their identity."

Buffy was suddenly very glad that the boy had recognised her, who knew what other tests she would have had to go through if they hadn't only been checking for vampirism and disguise.

"Where are we going?" She asked as they moved further into the main building, travelling ever up as they reached each new flight of stairs. Buffy could see through the windows that seemed to grace every part of the building, no doubt another form of protection against their primary foe, that they were nearing the top of the building with much of the roof visible below them.

"To the Council chambers, they were alerted to the breach of our defences and will already be assembled."

She gave up on conversation, following him through the halls until they reached a set of double doors in the centre of a corridor brightly lit by a wall of waist to ceiling windows facing south. They weren't risking any Vampires getting close to the Council's inner sanctum. The doors opened to reveal a wide set of steps leading up into another brightly lit room. It was on the highest part of the roof, a hexagonal room with windows in every direction and a ceiling comprised almost entirely of glass.

The only furniture in the room was a large round table at it's centre, ringed by fourteen chairs of which nine were filled, including the slightly raised and more ornate chair on the far side of the table.

It was the occupant of this chair that spoke, a mature gentleman in a neat grey suit, "Thank you Simmons, and is this the on reason we were all awakened so early this morning?"

"Yes sir," her chief escort responded, taking a step forward, "This girl broke into the Columbarium. She claims to be The Slayer." Those unable to see her from their positions at the table turned abruptly at those words.

"The Slayer?" He asked, looking at her intently, "Miss Summers?"

Aware of the scrutiny she was receiving Buffy shrugged, "Most people call me Buffy."

"Buffy." He repeated with a sense of wonderment.

"I told you she was.." The boy who had identified her in the mausoleum began before being cut off by his leader.

"Quiet." He left Buffy's side to confront his subordinate, "You would do well to remember you place, young man. Your family might have a history with this organisation but you are still expected to show your superiors the respect they deserve."

"Wesley!" one of the other men seated around the table spoke before the boy could respond, "We all remember what you claimed earlier this year, and in light of recent revelations it appears you were correct." He paused, but the next words removed the slightly superior grin that was appearing on the young man's face, "Your punishment is not to do with the truth of your tales but the lack of protocol followed in approaching the Council."

"But-" Wesley began before biting back his words with a scowl and drawing himself to the attention position his companions were standing in.

"Buffy." The Head of the Council drew her attention back to him as her guards began to filter out of the room, two remaining on either side of the door, "Please take a seat."

Buffy moved to the chair he indicated to her, the one directly across the table from him which like his was raised slightly above the ground. When she sat to find it a snug fit for her slender form, she realised that this chair was also narrower than the other thirteen chairs, slighter. Built for someone smaller than the adults intended to occupy the others, a child perhaps. A Slayer.

"I am Matthew Azazael, current leader of the Council of Watchers, and these are members of the Council." The men and women seated before her each greeted her before quieting to allow their leader to continue, "Please tell us where you have been all these months and how we can help you now."

"I-" She tried to speak but couldn't, felt her thoughts of revealing what she knew, speaking of the wizarding world fade and twist into something else. It was the same feeling she had gotten when she thought about sending a letter to Giles similar to the one she had posted to her mother, of explaining why she couldn't come home. The same bending of thoughts that made her believe it was better to try to sneak into the Watchers' Headquarters than risk revealing all. This thing blocking her from sharing her knowledge of the wizarding world.

One of the Council members to her right, a severe looking woman with intense but kind eyes that reminded her of Professor McGonagall, noticed Buffy's growing fear at the realisation that she couldn't tell them what was going on. Get their help finding Faith. "Don't worry if you can't tell us everything, dear. Just say what you can."

Buffy forced herself to concentrate, to fight the spell. So much of what she wanted to say was tied up in the wizarding world, a world that was apparently all too good at protecting itself from being casually revealed to Muggles, "Faith. I came about Faith."

"You know Miss Lehane?" Matthew asked, "I thought you had left Sunnydale before she arrived."

Another of the watchers eagerly cut in, "Do you know where she is?"

Buffy could feel her hopes for this trip crumbling around her, they didn't know where she is either, "I haven't met her. I saw her in a dream, when she arrived in Sunnydale. I came here for help finding her." She waited, not liking the silence that her words had caused, "You have a way don't you, of finding Slayers? Merrick told me you had to track me down."

There was a long silence in the room, Buffy's stomach sinking further with the dreaded thought that there wasn't any aid to be found here, that all this had been for nothing and she would be stuck on her own.

Finally Matthew spoke, "Yes, we do have means of locating Slayers but recently we have not been able to use even the most powerful of these to find any. The last time this happened, loosing track of one slayer without another being called, she had become lost in a Hell dimension."

"Faith didn't get lost she was…" Buffy paused, that first dream, first memory was always less clear than all those that came after, something there Buffy felt she should recognise in the distorted image. She knew now where those of being trapped, alone in the dark and desperate to escape had come from. Faith must have been transported from America to wherever the wizard was holding her. A week spent confined. No wonder the Slayer hadn't managed to resist being placed in chains.

"She was taken." Matthew agreed, "Buffy, do you know the circumstances of her abduction?" he asked in an oh so careful, calming tone.

That tone, he wasn't asking to find out, he was asking because there was something else about it that she should know. Something she hadn't wanted to remember.

"I-" Buffy tried to concentrate but the fog of that dream. She felt a wave of the soul destroying grief that had so filled her dreams that first week, tying into the claustrophobia, "About a month ago I started having dreams of being trapped in a small space, and then one night I wasn't there, I was chained to a wall in some underground room being tortured by-" She couldn't manage to finish the sentence, couldn't break the spells that bound the wizarding world's secret.

"Tortured!" one of the Council exclaimed.

"Buffy, where is Faith now?" Matthew asked, trying to calm the agitated Slayer by keeping the urgency out of his voice.

"I told you! I don't know… I need you to…" her hands gripped onto the arms of the chair causing the ancient wood to groan.

"What are they doing to her?"

"Attacking her, they spend every night trying to break her down, get her to tell them something…" She paused, just the thought of it making her anxious to find her sister slayer, to do something, anything to make up for the nights of torture before… "I didn't know!" Buffy exclaimed into the silent room, begging for absolution from a group with no way to give it to her, "I thought they were of the future, of something that might happen to me. I never imagined… and then I realised…" she stopped, breathing heavily to get herself under control, "I have to find her."

Before Matthew could reply, the door at the bottom of the stairs crashed open and Wesley rushed in, gasping for breath.

"Wesley! What do you think you're doing? This cannot be overlooked-" This time Wesley did not shrink back from the reprimand, he marched to Matthew's chair and stood to attention.

"Sir, we have been trying to detain him but there is a gentleman arrived moments after the Council sat. He used the code word and insists on seeing you immediately." His eyes flicked to the doorway behind Buffy as if fearful that the man he spoke of might appear there any moment, "He is coming this way."

Matthew also looked to the doorway at those words, no, not at the doorway, his worried expression was focussed on her. What about those words could have made him look at her like that? He drew Wesley into a quick, murmured conversation that Buffy couldn't make out, only able to catch the occasional word when voices raised.

The words 'breached wards' caused an immediate reaction in the Council leader, he began to rise, looking across the table to where Buffy was seated, "I'm sorry Buffy, it seems I have unavoidable business I must attend to." He glanced to the woman seated to his left who had lent in to be party to Wesley's news, "Antonia, perhaps you could take Buffy to the dining room. I'm sure she managed to skip breakfast in the misunderstanding this morning."

As one the rest of the Council rose to their feet, making their way down the steps to the door that the guards opened for them. Matthew and Wesley along with seven of the Council members turned left, retracing the path Buffy had taken up into the building while Antonia, Mrs Finch-Fletchley as she introduced herself to Buffy, led the Slayer to the right followed by the men who had been guarding the doorway.

She glanced back as the door at the eastern end of the windowed corridor swung open, the Council members blocking all but a flash of colour as she heard Matthew greet somebody and a melodic voice respond. Mrs Finch-Fletchley placed a hand lightly on the back of Buffy's arm leading her through the door before them, away from whomever the rest of the Council was meeting. Away from their secrets.

Buffy hated this, all the lies and half truths that seemed to surround her at all times, nothing had been open and easy since she had first met Merrick in Los Angeles. It felt like so long ago, a lifetime had passed since she had been called not only three years. Three years in which secrets had slowly but surely destroyed every aspect of her life. If they were talking about wards that meant wizards, and Buffy had to know who from that world the Council was dealing with. How it fit into Clause 75.

She stopped, shaking off the hand that attempted to keep her walking away from the Council chambers and turned back, determined to face this new secret head on. The guards grabbed at her and were quickly pushed aside. She ran for the doors, grabbing her wand with a practiced movement as she heard the sound of a gun being readied behind her.

The training in D.A. had made casting a shield charm second nature and, trusting that the centaurs were right that the Watcher's wards would hide her magical signature, she readied her magic to send it behind to protect her escape and found… nothing.

She couldn't reach that power that she had been able to feel dwelling within her since the moment she first touched her wand, first made that direct connection to the energy that sustained her. In her shock at that feeling, the misty emptiness that existed where she should be feeling the vibrant touch of her magic, Buffy didn't think to duck, to avoid the dart being fired her way.

The needle emptied its contents into her bloodstream as she reached the doors, wrenching them open even as the tranquiliser began to take effect, slowing her movements and thoughts.

"There may not have been an attack but things have been… unsettled recently in my world. This could very well have been reconnaissance ahead of an all out attack."

That booming voice coming out of the still open door of the Council chamber, she recognised that voice, but couldn't place it with the drugs distorting her thoughts, making it echo through her mind like a drum.

"The wards prevent your kind from attacking here and without magic we can easily dispatch any attack."

No magic? Yes, her sluggish thoughts agreed, that would make sense, explain why she couldn't cast, felt disconnected from the magic within.

"Only while the wards hold."

There was that voice again. Buffy tried to remember where she knew it from, familiar but distorted by the drugs speeding through her system. Onwards, all her efforts were being was concentrated in continuing to move forwards, on resisting the tranquilisers.

She felt the guards catch up to her, grabbing onto limbs that grew heavier by the second, but a Slayer's metabolism is designed to keep going long past the point of exhaustion, long after any other would have given in and succumbed to the promise of rest that the drug gave. Buffy knocked them away with every ounce of strength that remained; enough it seemed to send them crashing back into the glass as she stumbled through the door to the council chambers.

So close, she was so close to the stairs when Buffy's legs gave way beneath her and sent her tumbling to the floor. Her blurred vision made out a gigantic flapping purple bird descending upon her. A bird that as it grew closer developed half moon spectacles and bright blue eyes, whose wings turned into velvet billowing about a robust frame that couldn't belong to anyone but…

"Dumbledore?" She somehow managed to slur the word before the world went black.

.

~ to be continued… ~

_**A/N:**__- I've said it before and I'll say it again, a happy writer is a productive writer... and reviews make me oh so happy (seriously... the number of times I check my email in the days after I post is embarrassing). They also give me ideas... which make me write. My plot bunnies (the imps) tend to be kinda vicious and don't shut up until I get them down... share your thoughts with me and you might help me by sparking one!_


	54. Views Through Keyholes

**A/N:-** So it's a lot later in the day than usual because the last fortnight has been insanely busy and this was a pain to write (and also probably not what any of you expected/wanted), but I'm just about getting it in within my 'once a fortnight' goal. This does however mean that it's hot off the presses and so probably **even** more prone to error than usual. I will try to do a bit more thorough editing tomorrow so if you prefer to read something slightly more polished it might be worth waiting. I just didn't want to let you guys down after the overwhelmingly amazing response I got to the last chapter. Thank you to all those who reviewed, I loved reading your comments and expectations. Thanks to: EarwenTelrunya, StephanieSmith, Hanzo of the Salamander, DemonKittyAngel, babysayitish'tso, Rebecca Pierson, enchantedlight, Chels, k9angel, amelia and Tro-chan. For those of you whom I haven't already I will try to respond to your comments tomorrow.

**_Views Through Keyholes_**

Harry trudged down to the Great Hall not speaking to his friends. Ron and Hermione weren't offended by his inattention, they were used to it by now and left him alone until after breakfast. It had been yet another night of feeling that dark energy pulse through him, sending that hatred out into the girl, destroying her body, struggling to manipulate her will. And then after the failure there was the anger, anger that was also bent into pain.

He had thought he knew hatred understood it. He had felt the burning anger that flowed through him when he thought of his parent's death, of the injustice surrounding Sirius' situation, of Snape, of that man who was so inextricably linked into everything he hated within the wizarding world, and yet wasn't. The overwhelming force of emotion that took over his body when he thought of all the things that were being hidden from him was nothing to what he was experiencing every night in his dreams. It wasn't just about hatred, the desire for revenge against misdeeds real or otherwise, it was the resolve to cause someone pain, the belief that you hold the right to smother their will with your own. The joy, the unadulterated pleasure that Voldemort felt in those actions, even through his anger.

The previous year he had watched Crouch dressed up as Moody cast the Unforgivable curses on spiders and been sickened by the ease with which you could do these things to another. How with the flick of a wand and a choice word you could control, torture and kill. Harry knew now that these things were anything but easy, and if you had to distort your mortality, taint your soul just to cast the lesser of the Unforgivables, he had no desire to find out what was needed for the last and most terrible of them.

Harry couldn't help but think that he should be doing something, telling someone. Somehow helping that girl trapped in Voldemort's cell. He thought for the hundredth time about speaking to Dumbledore, telling him what he had seen, but couldn't stand the thought of the disappointment in the Headmaster's eyes, of being sent back to Snape with a 'try harder' and a pat on the head.

After all, Dumbledore didn't need to be told. His trusted spy would have already passed on what Harry had seen.

_The memory had been there at the forefront of his mind since he had woken with a start, of power rushing through him and into the girl, feeling her agony reflected back down the line of magic as he watched her writhe. Harry couldn't do as Snape asked, banish this terrible thought away from where he could reach, it was too vibrant, too awful, there had been no time to tell Dumbledore, to pass on the responsibility for the girl to the man they all trusted to save them. So when Snape raised his wand, Harry knew what the result would be._

_Images from the previous night's nightmares flicked across his mind and he knew that Snape had seen it, what had been tormenting him all day._

_"What was that?" Snape snapped, eyes flashing in annoyance."_

_"It… it was." He reluctantly spoke, unwilling to tell his hated professor that he was failing. That he had spent the night in Voldemort's head._

_"I know that room Potter. I've been in it. You should not be dreaming of that place."_

_"But… she.." Harry started, "Now we know she's there… what they're doing to her… the Headmaster can…" _

_"It is not your job to find out what the Dark Lord is doing."_

_"No, that's yours isn't it."_

_"Yes. It is." The Potions Master agreed, "And don't doubt that we are aware that he has a prisoner."_

_"Then why haven't you…"_

_"Freed her? Even a Gryffindor must realise it is not as simple as that." Snape sneered, "Now, let us return to your task." He raised his wand again and Harry braced for the impact of memories he would rather forget._

As he entered the Great Hall, Harry glanced at the top table as had become his routine over the last year, taking in the reassuring presence of the only man that Voldemort truly feared. However much Dumbledore's lack of time for him hurt, it couldn't erase the sense of ease that his protection gave, especially after spending all night witnessing demonstrations of Voldemort's power. Except that today he wasn't there.

Harry only realised that he had stopped in the middle of the doorway, blocking anyone from entering behind him, when Ron and Hermoine walked into his back, still discussing the homework Ron was attempting to get Hermione's help with.

He wasn't here; Dumbledore was gone.

Harry stumbled to the Gryffindor table, eyes still fixed on that empty seat at the head table. A spot that even the staff kept glancing at in confusion.

Once perhaps this would not have been so strange, Harry could remember weeks in first year when the Headmaster seemed to barely be at his school. Constantly called off on some errand or another to help the Minister of Magic in his new position. But as Cornelius Fudge became more comfortable in his role the calls had diminished, and then events at Hogwarts began to demand Dumbledore's complete attention.

While the basilisk had been roaming the hallways, the Headmaster had not left the school until forced to do so, and when reinstated refused the following year to let the Dementors presence go unsupervised.

It had been years since Harry could remember a morning without Dumbledore residing over the proceedings at breakfast and dinner, occasionally missing in the middle of the day but always there at its beginning and end, a living reminder that they were protected here. That Hogwarts was safe.

He inspected the reactions of Professors Snape and Umbridge, suspecting either or both of them were behind this, a party to whatever had dragged the Headmaster away from his school, but they like the other students and staff showed confusion, if a little lacking in the worry that most others displayed. But what, Harry wondered, other than the Ministry or Voldemort could remove Dumbledore from his home?

Voices at the Ravenclaw table rose for a moment above the whispers, but Harry didn't care about what was bothering the studious house, not when the Headmaster was missing.

* * *

Dumbledore stood over the fallen figure braced between the Watchers in the doorway and those that had followed him down the stairs. He hadn't drawn his wand, as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards Dumbledore had strengthened the dampening wards surrounding the council, and he knew it would be useless. Those wards should have made him harmless, allowed the Watchers to easily subdue any magic user who encroached on their property but this wasn't just any wizard. This was the most powerful wizard in Britain, in the world.

His wand might be incapable of connecting to his magic in this place but his emotions weren't restricted, and Dumbledore was using them. Feeding his anger and the need to protect the girl at his feet to make the air about him crackle with unspent power, his purple cloak billowing out behind him on a breeze of his own creation, shielding the body from view. One of the guards in the hallway lifted his tranquilizer gun, but before he could sight on the wizard it flew out of his hand, smashing through the glass behind him.

"Would someone like to explain what Miss Summers is doing at my feet?" His voice contradicted the angry power flashing around him, affable as if he was merely asking about their day, but his eyes were like shards of ice digging into Matthew, demanding an explanation.

"You know Buffy?" Matthew asked Dumbledore, stalling for time, needing to know how much the wizard knew before he revealed his own hand. The wizard might be the liaison between his world and the Council but even in that position his knowledge of their work was restricted. The Supreme Mugwump was the only magic user told the true nature of what it was they watched but never who.

Matthew's mind raced, how could this man have met the Slayer, was this somehow connected to whatever had hidden her from their searches. He was the Headmaster of the British school for magic not one of the wizards who hunted dark creatures, wizards that the Council carefully prevented from meeting Slayers.

"Certainly." Dumbledore responded in the easy going manner that managed to set Matthew's teeth more on edge than threats ever could, "She has been studying at my school for seven months now."

Matthew deflated, what they had fought and died to prevent over the 250 years since the Council was created had finally come to pass. The slayer was once again exposed to magic, studying it. That shouldn't even be possible, he glanced down again at the slight form resting behind the wizard, "She is a witch?"

"Yes. A rather good one from what my staff have told me." Dumbledore confirmed in that jovial tone "I take it from your familiarity with her that she is known to you?"

"Yes" Matthew ground out. It seemed stupid to attempt to deny it now, "Buffy is the Chosen One. She is the being we protect from wizards."

Bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. "So she's…" Dumbledore paused, a light of understanding shining through his eyes, "Fascinating." His sharp gaze moved to the guards nervously occupying the doorway, "I take it I am the reason she is unconscious."

"I-" the watcher glanced at Matthew for permission before continuing, "We are charged with preventing at all costs any interaction between the Chosen One and wizards."

"Quite. I am sorry that my actions forced your actions in this way. I feared-" Dumbledore paused, "I feared that another had discovered your group, but it seems that this is the breach in your wards." He gestured to the wand still held lightly in Buffy's limp hand.

"I didn't think that a witch could be called. It's never happened before." There had even been a study made at Hogwarts that had found that Slayers consistently had low magical potential, even for Muggles. The author had proposed that magic interfered with the selection process in some way. But how could that be true if a witch had been called? "If she's a witch souldn't she have been at Salem?"

"She was invited to attend, her mother however was not receptive to the idea that her daughter was a witch."

Matthew nodded, understanding the predicament. Most wizards did not know about Watchers but the Council was not bound by similar limitations. They had to understand the world they sought to hide their charge from after all.

"Perhaps that is the reason then, she had not begun using her magic when she was called."

"Perhaps." Dumbledore agreed "She is surprisingly strong magically. It is strange that she did not perform accidental magic and force the issue sooner."

"That is why you started training her, she accidentally cast?"

"Yes, and as for why she came to me…" He paused, moving to the other side of the collapsed figure now that he knew his pupil was not in danger, "You know that she was adopted?"

"Of course. We carefully research the lineage of any who are called that come from an unknown line. Buffy turned out to be a bit of a dead end."

"Yes, as did we. However an empty birth certificate was enough proof of her nationality for the Americans to deport her. They still dislike accepting Muggleborns into our society, and an untrained muggleborn Witch was a problem they quickly handed over to our Ministry."

A birth certificate Matthew mused, that hadn't been mentioned in the summary of Buffy's adoption that the Watchers had obtained. If she was born in England then they might need to reopen the search for her parents, "And she was sent to you to train?"

"Yes."

* * *

He rushed to the hall at lunchtime to look at the chair at the centre of the top table, only to have his hopes dashed. Dumbledore still wasn't here.

It could just be that the Headmaster was in his office working through the lunch break instead of sharing his meal with the students but Harry didn't believe that. Dumbledore would have known the concern his absence at breakfast had caused and made an appearance if he could. More than that the school felt different somehow without its master present.

Harry sat down heavily at the Gryffindor table, throwing his bag at his feet and inadvertently hitting the third year sitting beside the space he had filled. He mumbled an apology as the boy moved away with a scowl, and turned to face his friends. Hermione pulled her copy of the Daily Prophet out of her bag as soon as she sat down, searching the articles for anything that might have caused Dumbledore to leave Hogwarts, while Ron immediately started loading up his plate.

"Harry!" he heard yelled from up the table and found a ginger blur barrelling towards them, Ginny squashed herself into the narrow space the third year had created beside Harry and grinned across the table at Hermione and Ron, ignoring her brother's scowls.

"What do you want?" Ron asked, angrily attempting to skewer a carrot and instead sending it skittering across the table.

"Nothing if you're going to be like that." Ginny retorted with a superior smile, "Though I did think _you_ might want to know where Dumbledore is."

"You know where he's gone?" Hermione asked.

"Yes." She grinned, her cheeky expression fading when she saw how eager Harry was to know, "The Headmaster is with Buffy. She was meant to be in potions with me just now but I overheard a prefect tell Professor Snape that she had a family emergency… or something… and Dumbledore went with her."

"With Buffy." Harry felt a surge of jealousy, this year he had gone to court, been seeing Voldemort's actions in his dreams and yet he could barely get the Headmaster to speak two words to him. The new girl had a family emergency and somehow managed to take him away from the school. "Isn't that something Professor Flitwick should do as her head of house?"

"Maybe they're worried that without a proper escort she'll make a break for it."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "You know the rumours about her are as ridiculous as the ones about Harry."

"What about her wandering about at night?" Harry quickly asked.

"Because no one else has ever done that?" Ginny pointedly reminded him, earning a grateful smile from Hermione.

He didn't understand girls sometimes, it was Hermione who had originally raised his suspicions of the girl, wondering why it was that with all the classes in the school, Buffy's timetable somehow managed to avoid having any that were shared with the fifth year Gryffindors. But then she had supported the girl joining D.A. and now seemed to be intent on defending her at every turn.

"I still say there's something weird about that girl, what about that thing with my wand?"

"Harry, there's nothing strange about her having magic similar to yours."

"Yeah, look at Fred and George." Reflexively obeying Ron's words, Harry did, finding the pair surreptitiously selling their joke shop merchandise to an ever-flowing stream of customers at the far end of the table, "They can swap their wands."

"Any wizards with magical affinity can use one another's wands, if not all as easily as them." Hermione reminded them both.

"Yes but…" Harry paused, he couldn't tell them what was worried him so much about it, tell them about the darkness he had felt within her power, that the only other person who had a connection to his wand was Voldemort. It was bad enough that he too spoke parseltongue, that he was witnessing their enemy's actions in his dreams. He couldn't tell them of that other connection, their shared wand cores, that he was witnessing events through the evil wizard's eyes, that he could feel Voldemort's emotions as he delved into other's souls. "Never mind."

* * *

It was oddly symbolic, the placement of the two men one on either side of the bed in the centre of the room, each man representing an aspect of the girl lying oblivious on the bed. Asleep she seemed harmless, fragile almost. Her body displaying the strain it had recently been under. Slayers were deceptive, no one would suspect that a young girl could hold so much power, literal wolves in sheep's clothing Matthew thought.

"What happens when she wakes?" They had avoided speaking about what would happen later, instead concentrating on moving Buffy into one of the empty rooms in the Council living quarters, discussing what was needed to reset the wards.

"She needs to come back to the school. You know the dangers an untrained witch can pose to herself and others."

"And you know why this institution exists, that magic must be kept away from her." Matthew immediately retorted, but he knew the words were empty even though the laws that granted Watchers guardianship of the superseded those that governed untrained witches.

If Buffy was powerful enough to accidentally cast then Dumbledore was right, she needed to learn to control it before it controlled her. There was no way of knowing how a Slayer's own unfettered magic might affect her, and they couldn't risk the potential ramifications if the worst should happen.

"Yes, I am aware of the trust that is placed on us both, but the Chosen One is a witch. There is no way to separate the two."

Matthew sighed, "We should have expected, I suppose, that this would eventually happen." Dumbledore remained silent, he was learning more about the mysterious institution now than any magic user had known since it was set up, "Do you think it was a mistake to keep recruiting from Squibs?" Matthew asked rhetorically, but how could they stop when for so many of those children of the wizarding world there was no other option, cast out by their families. Matthew had known one Watcher who like Buffy had been abandoned on cold steps as a babe. They couldn't stop offering a home to those born without magic, "Or should we have prevented Watchers interfering with the Slayer line?" But what right did they have to dictate who their members married, he shrugged, defeated, "It is not the first time a girl born of the line has been a witch, just the first time that girl was called."

It had never been the aim of the Watchers to breed future generations of Slayers, but predictably those bound together by conflict occasionally found love. Watchers worked alongside families to raise girls who might become slayers, grieved with them if their ward was called and she met her inevitable end. These relationships could not be ignored; many siblings of Slayers became Watchers themselves or married one. Irrevocably tying the slayer lineage to the Watchers, in turn binding the Watchers closer to the slayers, few ties of loyalty are stronger than that produced by blood.

Now over half the girls they watched had direct links to current members of the Council and many others had more distant links to the institution. Slayers weren't just charges to the Watchers. They were family. Had this thing that so many thought kept the institution true to purpose, kept it great, been the cause of this shattering of their aims? No, there were records of liaisons between Guardians and the families of Slayers long before the Council had taken over their care.

It was not the Watchers' fault that magical blood flowed through the Slayer line. They took every precaution, not telling their children about the reality of magic. Hiding their work even from their families because of the off chance that they might be magical, that they might be a part of the world the Watchers hid from. Preventing any risk of a wizard learning of Slayers, distancing their charges as much as possible from the threat of magic.

For Buffy there was no longer a way to do that.

"Has anything… strange happened?" Matthew finally broke the silence the pair had fallen into.

"I suppose there's no use asking you to define what you mean by strange?" Dumbledore asked before continuing without waiting for the expected answer, "We were aware that she had another power in her, it made her magic rather volatile for a while."

"Volatile?" the Watcher's face creased with concern.

"Uncontrollable spells, unexpected bursts of power." Dumbledore elaborated, "Problems symptomatic of those with a dual power sources when one is not being put to use. The two powers have a tendency to feed one another, sometimes abnormally strengthening one. I believe she has resolved this with occasional trips into the woods around the school."

"You allow her to go to the Forbidden Forest?"

Dumbledore shrugged, dismissing the accusation in Matthew's tone, "I have not prevented her. It has seemed to ease her problems with magic and some of the denizens of the forest reassured me that she is more than capable of surviving its various dangers."

"Well yes, she is… but still."

"You're not suggesting I would allow any of my students to come to harm if I could prevent it?"

The air was beginning to crackle again with angry power, so Matthew quickly dissuaded the wizard of that idea, falling back into silence as they both observed the subject of their conversation.

"What will you do?" Dumbledore finally broke the silence.

Matthew kept his gaze on the girl, the one upon whom all this depended, "Watchers are sworn to protect the Chosen One at all costs, even should we need to protect her from herself. We will just have to hope that it does not come to that." He paused, finally looking across to the wizard with worried eyes, "Until then we will do as she asks, give her what she needs, that is our duty."

"Do you know why she chose now to seek out the Council?" He couldn't figure it out, there had been other opportunities when it would have been easier for Buffy to reach the Council, and yet she had only gone to them now, in the middle of term. Dumbledore wasn't even certain how she had managed to get here.

"I-" Matthew stopped, distracted by a movement between them as Buffy began to stir, "Perhaps she could better tell you that."


	55. Walking by Graves

_**A/N:**-So I'm exceptionally proud of myself for getting this out so soon. This whole chapter is one long conversation… or well… a couple of long conversations. And you know how I hate dialogue (for those of you who don't… chapters have been held up for months solely due to my inability to write a conversation). This one actually came rather easily… which makes me worry about the characterisations… but then I always worry about something._

_Before we get started I'd like to share a few things completely (or mostly) unrelated to the story… first of all, I passed my uni exams! Not amazingly well but passed at least which means (and this is why you guys should care) I wont have any re-sits. Re-sits which would cause me to spend my limited free time revising instead of writing. So yay._

_Secondly, on the subject of updating I just wanted to clarify the situation – over the summer break from uni I plan to post once a fortnight. I aim to put up a chapter every other Friday. This will definitely stop in October when my term resumes (I'm not just a student, I'm a part time student who works full time… so when I'm studying I have little free time for anything else). I will try to update in term time but it will likely be sporadic (as it was this last year). Sorry._

_And last but not least… the reason for posting today and breaking my routine… It's my birthday! So I thought I'd give an unbirthday gift to you all (in the selfish hope that in return you might tell me what you think of my [not so] little story)._

_As with most writers, while it's nice to see the hits and alerts numbers go up, it is hard to equate that to how much people like it. There's no way of knowing if it is one of the stories you put aside to read if there's really nothing better or one that you avidly follow unless you tell me. And I really would love to know._

_I appreciate so much those that do take that time to simply tell me that they like it, and love those that are able to put into words why. Strangely enough I particularly adore reviews that tell me I need to improve this… well… I do when they are able to point out how I should do this or why they feel that way (a vague criticism is nobody's friend) or those that speculate on what's coming up in my tale (such comments have prompted some of the best parts of this… well in my opinion anyway… you'll just have to tell me what you think are the best bits ;D)._

_So… what the last few paragraphs were saying is… I would love so much to hear what you think (it also proves conclusively that I'm not ashamed of begging)._

_On that note I'd like to thank those who took the time to do just that, I was amazed that in only 5 days (4 really considering how late I posted on Friday and how early I'm posting today) I got so many reviews. Thanks to __Enchantedlight, DemonKittyAngel, Unknown, Hanzo of the Salamander, Lady Irish Rose, serenite1 and Helga. __It was a treat to have comments both from names I recognise but also those new to reading the story._

_Those who were logged in when they reviewed should now have responses… including those who reviewed the last chapter (sorry). Below are my responses to the comments made by those not logged in who I therefore can't respond privately to:_

_Unknown – yes the story jumps forward occasionally between scenes (it would be even longer… and a lot duller if I didn't do this). A scene break is either a break in time or place or both. Usually I try to make it clear when a change in time has occurred and how long it has been, like mentioning that it's lunchtime._

_Helga – Thank you, it is gratifying to know that you found this interesting enough to keep reading… although I can't really be pleased that I am preventing someone's revision… I hope I don't affect your grades! Thank you for your review, your 'mindless praise' made me grin and it's reassuring to know that I got Harry's voice right (he's one I find hard to be certain of… and since the entire series are from his POV it will be very obvious if I go OOC)._

_Amelia (back to your review of Ch 53… sorry for not responding in the last chapter) – Thank you for all your lovely comments. I know that many readers prefer to have a 'ship… but I currently have so much going on in the story already… well that and while I too am a sucker for a good love story… I'm not sure I could write one well. I'm glad that despite not being entirely to your normal preferences that you are enjoying this and hope you continue to do so._

_I would also like to give a special thank you to sunraek for providing me with the perfect quote for the statue… and some interesting reading of more as I hadn't heard of Francois De La Rochefoucauld's Maxims before. If you know about him you probably already know what I've used… I hope everyone approves. To me it just seemed to so amazingly sum up Slayers._

_And… after that monstrous rant (it's my birthday I must be allowed… right?) on with the chapter! Given the choice this isn't what I would plan to be posting on my birthday… but this is where I'm at. Here goes nothing…_

_**Waking by Graves**_

"What…" Buffy sensed someone in the room with her as she woke and tried to sit up, reaching for her wand. Her vision blurred and her empty stomach turned. There was something… someone she was trying to get to…

"Stay down" She heard a reassuring voice tell her, a gentle arm easing her back down onto soft pillows, "you've had a large dose of tranquilisers."

It came back to her, some of it at least. The Watchers trying to stop her meeting someone, to restrain her, the dart that had flooded her system with drugs. Buffy flinched away from the man who led the ones that had attacked her, grip tightening on the slim wooden shaft in her hand. Would she come to regret that this was the only weapon she had brought, "Why?"

"I'm sorry Buffy. I hope you can forgive us for doing that." He met her accusing gaze head on, accepting the blame for their actions, willing to take her wrath, "There is one task of the Watchers more important than any other aspect of our duty…"

As Matthew trailed off, unsure how much he should say, Buffy realised what they had been doing, remembered the talk of wards, the meeting she had been drawn away from, "Keeping Slayers away from wizards."

And witches she thought, unable to forget the wand gripped in her hand. She wondered, now that she was thinking more clearly, why she still had it. Why they hadn't taken the weapon from her while she slept.

The Watcher seemed surprised by her knowledge of the situation, glancing across the bed, "Yes." Buffy followed his gaze to find Dumbledore. She sat up abruptly, less comfortable with him in the room than she was with the Head of the Council, instinctively reaching for her magic to protect her and finding once again that void where it should be. Was that the reason she still had it, they could trust her with a wand that didn't work? Buffy wanted it to be more, wanted to believe that Matthew and his Watcher's actions had been an ill advised attempt to protect her.

"Is there something you'd like to share with me Miss Summers?"

"Dumbledore? What are you doing here?" even as she said it she remembered, the blurred swirl of purple that had descended upon her. He was the one they had tried to keep her from, but then why was he now in a room with her.

"I could ask you the same question."

"I…" She began, stumbling over her words, and then she felt a surge of anger. Dumbledore had no right. This was her place, one where Slayers belonged. It was he not her that needed to explain away their presence here, even if she should be back at his school. He must have noticed her change in resolve, as Dumbledore's next words answered her question.

"I am here because the wards surrounding the Council are linked to me. Early this morning a wand breached them, your wand I would imagine."

"You know about the Council? But what about Clause 75?" Dumbledore didn't seem annoyed that she had deliberately mislead him, instead the Headmaster appeared almost proud that she had managed to keep this secret, and when she mentioned the Clause he sent her a proud smile.

"You found the International Statute of Secrecy?"

"Yes…" Buffy shrugged, "I found out that we were kept secret and wanted to know why."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at the question implicit in that statement "That, my dear, is something even the Supreme Mugwump has never been told. You will have to ask Mr Azazael."

Matthew shifted awkwardly as her gaze returned to him "Perhaps we can discuss that later Buffy?"

"Ah, even now you do not trust me to keep your secrets?" Dumbledore asked with a grin in his voice.

"Especially now. You are a wizard who knows the identity of the Slayer. I cannot risk you learning more."

"He's not the only one." Buffy commented without thinking.

"You've told others?" Matthew asked, his tone more disappointed than disapproving, reminding her so much of Giles, of home, "Buffy I know that in Sunnydale your friends found out but you can't…"

"No" Buffy quickly corrected, "I haven't told anyone. It's Faith, the ones torturing her are wizards." She was surprised by how easy it was now to say that after the trouble she'd had before.

"What?" Matthew demanded, "But how could they…" he trailed off, face lined with worry.

"Who is Faith?"

"She's another Slayer." Buffy anticipated shock from Dumbledore when Matthew mentioned another Slayer, spoke about Faith, and was looking for it, but he merely took it in his stride. The lack of a reaction, more than anything he had said, convinced Buffy that he knew as little as she did.

"Slayer, I take it is another word for the Chosen One?" Matthew reluctantly nodded, the watchers had been careful to limit this form of information from the wizards, hiding what the one the protected did, disconnecting her from the name that the Vampires and Werewolves which wizards associated with might know, "Vampire Slayer perhaps?"

"Yes. Does this mean you know who has her?" Buffy eagerly asked.

"I believe I might," Dumbledore stated grimly, "Recently a wizard who 15 years ago came close to taking control of the wizarding world restored himself from the… state he was left in when he was defeated."

"You-Know-Who?" Buffy interjected.

"Yes, that is what most call him for fear of the name he goes by, of his power." Dumbledore dismissed this fear with a wave of his hand, "Originally, before he chose a name to invoke fear in his enemies and awe in his followers, he was called Tom Riddle."

"The stories about his return are true then?" Michael sounded doubtful, "Most of my contacts are rather sceptical."

"Yes. He has merely been keeping a low profile, gathering his forces and setting plans into action."

"And you think he has Faith?" the Watcher confirmed.

"I'm almost certain of it." Dumbledore was very good at sounding definitive, at discouraging further questioning of his statements, "I was informed two months ago that he was interested in a creature called a Vampire Slayer."

"And on January 13th she was abducted. How did they find her so fast?" Matthew wondered aloud.

"Riddle has a vast network of informants, including creatures likely to know about a Vampire Slayer." He paused, contemplating just how much it was safe to share with the pair, "Around that time many of his Werewolf associates were missing from their usual haunts. A colleague infiltrated their group but wasn't trusted enough to discover their plans." At Matthew's startled reaction to the mention of werewolves, Buffy knew that Dumbledore's suspicions were correct, they had been abducting Faith.

"Yes, we believe it was werewolves who took Faith."

"I was never certain… why would he have used them and not his Death Eaters for such an important task?"

"She was in Sunnydale, their magic would work almost as badly there as here."

"Of course! The draining attributes of the Hellmouth would have made it pointless to send wizards…"

"Do you know how to find him?" Buffy interrupted their deviating discussion, bringing them back to what was important.

"No." the Headmaster answered regretfully, "He has used powerful concealment charms that I cannot break."

"And you don't know where she is?" She asked Matthew

"None of our detection methods have been working. We tried everything we could as soon as Rupert reported what had happened." He averted his gaze from hers, meeting Dumbledore's eyes across the bed, "No doubt these wards of Riddle's are hiding her from us, just as I imagine it was the spells around Hogwarts that prevented us from finding you." There was something there, something he wasn't saying. But uncovering that could wait, Faith was what was important now and as long as it didn't stop them finding her, Buffy wasn't interested in whatever Matthew was hiding.

"Can I ask how you know that your friend is being tortured by wizards?"

Buffy wasn't sure how to react to Dumbledore's question, how much to tell. She glanced to Matthew for help, out of the two men it was the watcher that she trusted best.

"Go ahead. He will need to know if he's to help us find her."

"I've been having dreams about it."

"Dreams?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes" Matthew shifted uncomfortably, knowing the general wizarding opinion of prophecy, "Slayers are somewhat partial to phrophetic dreams."

"And because we're both slayers I'm sort of connected to Faith."

The wizard nodded thoughtfully, surprisingly unperturbed by the trust Buffy and Matthew placed in her nightmares, "I think it would be best if you tell us everything you remember about these dreams."

* * *

They questioned her for what felt like hours, demanding information, details. Anything and everything that might help them locate those who held the other Slayer. Part way through the interrogation, Buffy's stomach let out a loud groan, reminding all three that she at least hadn't eaten since the previous evening, and they moved their conversation to a private dining room but never halted the discussion. The slayer, wizard and watcher agreed on one thing; that the priority was to find Faith, that it was imperative they find her as soon as possible.

Buffy suspected that Dumbledore's eagerness was due to the hope that by finding her he would also discover the hiding place of the wizard torturing her that did not affect his commitment to their goal. If anything it seemed to make him all the more keen, while Matthew was becoming more worried and almost despondent the more she explained.

"It started with dreams of darkness, of being in a tight space?" Matthew clarified, taking a mouthful of succulent steak.

"Yes." Buffy responded tiredly for what felt like the hundredth time.

"And it was on the night of the 18th that you first dreamt of torture?" At her nod of confirmation he continued, hollowly voicing his line of thought, "That must have been when they were transporting her. Six days… she could be anywhere in the world."

"There's nothing more you remember about the chamber? Nothing that could identify where it was?" Dumbledore asked, eyes boring into Buffy but the touch of his mind on hers that she braced herself to recieve never came.

"No. I've told you everything."

The wizard nodding, apparently oblivious to Buffy's distrust and turned to Matthew, "What about the ways you have been trying to locate her, how do they work?"

Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his seat, awkwardly finishing his mouthful, "I'm not sure."

"How do you use them then?" Buffy asked.

"There are certain magical artefacts linked to the Slayer line. They were given to the Council when we were given the duty to protect it."

"And some of these artefacts are used to find Slayers?" Dumbledore clarified.

"Yes."

"Take me to them."

"What?" Matthew choked out through a sip of wine.

Ignoring the Watcher's discomfort, Dumbledore looked around, "Are they used somewhere else or in some part of this building that the wards do not cover?"

"How…"

"You would not be able to use any magical items with the wards preventing their access to your magic. Even the strongest items containing their own power would have become inoperative after so long."

Stunned, Matthew responded, "There is a chamber beneath the building that is outside the wards. It is where they are kept."

Buffy turned to Dumbledore, willing to trust him if he could make this work, "Do you think you could find her with them?"

"It is possible that I might be able to use my own magic to enhance the current spells so that they can overcome concealment wards. Or use them as a template to create something more powerful."

"Okay." Matthew reluctantly agreed after a long guarded pause, "I'll have to run it by the rest of the Council, but once they understand…" He sighed dejectedly, gazing off into nothing, "We have to find her. Before anything happens."

* * *

Buffy couldn't stay in the underground room, unwilling to face the potential for disappointment after disappointment as Dumbledore attempted to find Faith. It seemed like a lost cause with some of the items emptied over a century ago of any trace of magic that had powered them, and Buffy was still reeling, her belief that the Watchers would have the answer destroyed. She preferred to find out at the end if he had ultimately been successful than dealing with her hope being slowly chipped away by many little failures.

Matthew too seemed to be avoiding a let down, joining her for a tour of the building while the wizard played with magic in the basement.

"Tell me." Buffy finally broke the silence they had become lost in. It seemed apt to discuss this here, back where it had all started, in the mausoleum facing the plaque that represented her life… and death.

"As I told you, we couldn't find you." The wards on the wizarding world were too strong to be breached by the Watchers.

"So you decided I was dead."

"Yes. Unfortunately we are not always able to confirm the deaths of our charges." He indicated to other niches also missing urns but containing weapons. There were surprisingly few of them considering the situations in which Slayers usually met their end. Did Watchers endanger themselves just to retrieve their Slayer's remains? That was a question for another time perhaps.

Buffy lifted the sword from its place and felt the familiar weight of the weapon, the blade she had thrust into her lover.

"It is traditional for a Slayer's favourite or last used weapon to be interred with her."

She nodded absently, moving to the statue that dominated the space and pausing to read the inscription. There were two, one in worn capital letters, reminiscent of Roman carvings, with below in a much newer carving another inscription in flowing italics. At first she thought it was a translation, but reading them both proved otherwise. She knew that **'LA PARFAITE VALEUR EST DE FAIRE SAN TÉMOINS CA QU"ON SERAIT CAPABLE DE FAIRE DEVANT TOUT LE MONDE' **didn'ttranslate to '_**They are not remembered, so we must never forget.'**_

"True bravery is shown by performing without witness what one might be capable of doing before all the world" Matthew read from behind her.

"Wouldn't it be 'perfect bravery'?"

"That is an alternate translation."

"Where…" Buffy paused, not certain she wanted to know who had raised a statue of a slayer inscribed with those words.

"Beaubaxtons, from the time that they trained slayers. The statue was brought to this location when the Watcher's were founded." Matthew stepped past her to point at the English words, "That was when the second inscription was added."

"You said you would explain why that happened." Buffy reminded him, not wanting to think of what those words implied, that even then when wizards had been helping Slayers, they mostly fought alone, without witnesses.

"I did." He moved to one of the pews and sat down heavily, "Wizards once helped train slayers, acted much in the way that we do now to try and give them as much assistance as is possible. Magic isn't any use against Demons, but there were other things that Wizards could help with." Matthew looked at Buffy, checking that she understood.

"Healing, transport and things like that?" Buffy thought of all the uses she'd found for her magic.

"Precisely. Although side-along apparition isn't always reliable with Slayers. You may have noticed that you are more resilient than usual to magic." Matthew sighed, "The next part we're not so clear on, even the reports we had were sketchy, the confederation tried to conceal as much as possible, but a wizard was experimenting in some way with the slayer he cared for and his magic somehow triggered a change in her."

Buffy started, suddenly sickeningly certain where this was going, "What happened to her?"

"She became uncontrollable. Vicious, paranoid and, worst of all from the perspective of the wizards, completely immune to magic. Their attempts to undo what they had done dissipated into sparks without affecting her and, misunderstanding what they were trying to do, she killed all but one of the wizards before escaping." Matthew paused, allowing Buffy to absorb what he was saying, not knowing that she understood all to well the strength of the slayer instincts in that form, the drive to survive regardless of the costs, "She was impossible to constrain, attacking anyone who tried, but then the Vampires somehow captured her and managed to control her. Enough at least to use her as a weapon in a rebellion they staged…"

"The breach of the Statute of Secrecy in 1749! The Vampire Uprising." Buffy interrupted, as recently as the last week the fifth year Ravenclaws had held a heated discussion in the common room as to weather that or the Werewolf Code of Conduct were more likely to come up in their O.W.L. but she couldn't recall any mention of anything Matthew was saying.

"Yes… although as you no doubt now realise, there was far more to it than the wizards history books say."

"So… how did they stop her? Why didn't she change back" Buffy asked, confused that apparently this Slayer unlike her had not awoken the next morning, tired but human, "Wait, it was you guys right? The Watchers saved her. That's why you took over from the wizards." Buffy tried to remember exactly what the book had said.

"Yes, we stopped her, and I suppose you could say we saved her from herself. Muggle weapons had fallen out of favour with wizards centuries before and so none of them had a way to combat something immune to their magic. Watchers…" Matthew paused, "The Watchers were a group of Squibs that fought Vampires, Werewolves and Demons with swords and bows. They were able to stop the Slayer."

Buffy was suddenly overwhelmingly relieved that she hadn't told the wizards about what had happened to her in Knockturn Alley, more so when he continued, "That is why we work so hard to keep Slayers away from magic. We all know what we would have to do should the worst happen. What is needed to prevent a saviour from turning into a killer."

She had wanted to know, wanted it to be some miscarriage of justice that had separated Slayers from the help wizards could give them. Buffy hadn't expected this, Matthews sad relation of the fall from grace that had damned all Slayers since. She hadn't expected the wizards fears to be so well founded.

"I met her." Matthew broke into the silence, "not recently, when she was a child. I hope I don't have to kill her." He sounded gloomy but firm, resolute in the task that might become his, to destroy a life he had cherished.

Buffy thought of Giles, of how he too must have dealt with the knowledge that in order to save her he might one day have to kill her. She couldn't help but feel reassured that the Watchers were there, that they would prevent the creature she could become from killing innocents.

* * *

It could have been minutes or hours later when Dumbledore joins them in the mausoleum, Buffy and Matthew hadn't moved, had barely had the energy to think.

"Anything?" Matthew asked hopelessly, knowing that if there had been any signs of success his watchers would have contacted him immediately.

"No, although there are one or two items that I believe warrant further investigation. If I could take them back to the school…"

"Fine."

Dumbledore looked at the Watcher sharply, unsure what to do with the pre-prepared arguments that apparently weren't needed, "In that case Miss Summers and I should return. Our absence will have caused enough uproar already."

That spurred Buffy to life, "I can't go back, I have to get home. There might be clues to finding Faith, and without her there's no one there to protect my friends, my Mom." As her agitation rose she felt some of that connection she had been missing with her wand, wild magic rising to protect her.

"Buffy you have to go." Matthew tried to calm her, "Without training your friends are in as much danger from you as anything else."

"But… shouldn't Slayers be kept away from magic? And you said that the Hellmouth dampens it."

"Every time you reach for your magic it becomes easier to touch. Without being used naturally it will build up inside you it will seek escape." Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow, "You know this, you have experienced it"

"Buffy," Matthew added, "there is something we really must discus soon, but you should know that Sunnydale is not unprotected."

"I know you guys try but Giles isn't enough..."

"I'm not thinking of your Watcher. The souled Vampire, Angel returned at the end of last year."

Buffy felt like all the air had been sucked out of her, she had to gasp in air before she could form words, "Angel… he came back? How."

"I don't know the specifics, but he found a ritual that allowed him to open the Hellmouth, he-"

"Used the moon." Buffy stated, suddenly certain what had happened over the holidays when the dark energies of the Hellmouth had swept over the globe and saw from the intense look that Dumbledore sent Matthew that he too had made the connection.

"Yes, he harnessed the power of the full moon and used it to bring himself back to Earth. Rupert's reports tell us that some demons tried to follow him through but Faith and your friends subdued them while Angel completed the ritual."

Angel had returned? Buffy couldn't even begin to understand what this meant for her, for them.

Matthew interrupted her reeling thoughts by clearing his throat awkwardly, "There's something else," He glanced to the doorway where a pair of watchers stood and continued when he received a nod, "when the Werewolves came for Faith." Matthew paused again, looking at the statue for the strength to continue, to tell her. "Faith was living in your Mother's house."

"Yes, I know." She absently agreed, still lost in thoughts of her lover, trying to understand the whirlwind of emotions rushing through her.

"You do?"

"I saw had a… vision of her arriving in Sunnydale." A moment later Buffy reacted to his words, suddenly understood what he was getting at, and all thoughts of Angel disappeared, "She's not… My Mom didn't get hurt when…" she couldn't complete the sentence, didn't want to contemplate what the sickening feeling in her stomach was telling her was true.

"Buffy, your mother was killed when they took Faith."

And as the words sunk in the memory was there, clearer than a vision, of that part of the early dreams that she hadn't remembered; her mind unwilling to recall something so terrifying, so awful in the clear light of day.

_A crash as she fell to the ground, overwhelmed by those attacking her, a pool of blood spreading over the floor towards her, a final glimpse of the empty eyes of the one she held so dear. _

She knew now, why when Faith had been trapped in a box, transported from Sunnydale, it wasn't the fear or claustrophobia that she had felt strongest but the grief, grief for a woman who even after so short a time had become a mother to her sister slayer.

Sticks and stones were nothing to this, Buffy could handle being battered, bruised and broken but those words, this knowledge tore her apart. This wasn't something she knew how to heal from, Buffy wasn't sure she wanted to.

Matthew laid a hand on her shoulder, attempting to give her some comfort, "I was wondering if you might like to hear a familiar voice." He motioned over one of the watchers waiting out of earshot by the doorway and pressed a speed dial on the phone the man brought over, "Rupert was keen to speak to you once he learnt of your reappearance."

Staring at the man without understanding, Buffy took the phone in a daze, hearing her mentor's increasingly agitated demands for an answer. She silently drank in the sound of his voice, finding slight comfort from it despite his agitation, until the questions turned into threats to hang up and she had to find her voice, "Giles." Buffy finally sobbed, that single syllable somehow laced with so much anguish.

She heard the sharp intake of breath as he realized who had called, what she had learnt, "Oh Buffy, I'm so sorry."

~ to be continued… ~

_**A/N:**- So… I hope you forgive me … and please don't leave me hate mail… it is my Birthday after all (perhaps it's not such a bad thing that this is the chapter I'm posting today). We will now return to our scheduled updates so look for more a week on Friday._


	56. Cadged Truths

_**A/N:**__- Hi guys. So here's more... a little later than planned but I think this chapter, or rather, Buffy's reaction to the previous chapter warranted extra care to get it right. Honestly I don't think I have but it has got to the point where I'm not a good enough writer to say it better, so you might as well have what I can do so that I can get on with the story._

_Thank you everyone who reviewed and all the birthday wishes. Getting home to read them all was just the icing on the top of a really good day... which is odd for me since I have a habit in recent years of becoming somewhat morose on my birthday. Thank you for helping to beat this tradition! It was fabulous to hear from some newcomers to the story as well as finding out that those who have been faithfully following from the start are still about. The honour roll this fortnight are; __toastbox, amy01, scarecrowgod, DemonKittyAngel, enchantedlight, Hanzo of the Salamander, mwinter1, General Mac and..._

_Helga – … runs away from the big stick (don't forget I'm only a lil imp…). I hope you think the extra wait was worth the result._

_Unknown – Sorry. And yup about three/four hours sounds right. The way I see it there were other things each would need to do in the interim… contacting Hogwarts/Giles etc… and writing hours of conversation while Buffy was unconscious would be rather dull (especially since anything more that was said would have to be repeated to Buffy)._

_Thanks to the four new people recommending this! If anything I expected to perhaps lose recommendations following the last chapter so I'm especially pleased to be able to thank new additions. They are borgrabbit, dabranning, Grevane and justapiranha._

_Without any further ado..._

_**Cadged Truths**_

The girl that returned to Hogwarts was a ghost of the one who had rushed off with a purpose in her heart. It had been so late on Friday night when they returned that Buffy had been sent straight to bed. She could vaguely remember hushed conversations and would have been relieved the next day to find that everyone knew, that she didn't have to explain, to try to act normally. Would have if she had any emotion left over from her grief.

She had tried so hard when she lost Angel, fighting against the shell of her lover, functioning, barely so but managing to delay her grief at his death. But now, this wasn't a loss she had any way to manage. It was something that had been eating her up for months, the separation from her mother, but always then it had seemed to have an end point, that eventually she would be allowed to leave, to return and beg for forgiveness. Fall into the open arms that she had never really stopped believing would greet her.

This time Buffy didn't have the energy to hide how she felt; she wasn't sure why she should. Why is it respectful to compose ourselves, to show a face of restrained dignity when we mourn? Why doesn't it better show the effect of their absence to proudly display the devastation left in their wake.

Devastated, destroyed was the only way to describe what had happened to the slayer. Everything she used to be broken down to pieces of rubble in the wake of the news, and kind as everyone was, there was nobody at Hogwarts who could help her rebuild. She had acquaintances but no friends, no one whose arms she could fall into now that her world had ended.

Through all the grief, the physical pain that ripped through her whenever Buffy remembered that she wouldn't see her mother again there was the guilt. Because if she had been there then maybe, just maybe her Mom wouldn't be dead. There would have been two Slayers to battle the werewolves not one. Buffy hated magic for being the reason she hadn't been with her mother when they were attacked, and hated even more the thrill that she couldn't help but feel whenever her magic flowed through her with a purpose.

She hated herself all the more for the trace of relief that dwelled within her grief, at knowing that her dream at the beginning of school had been real, that her mother had loved her, would have forgiven her. That her letter hadn't been rejected. Instead another dose of guilt descended upon her; if all she'd been told was true, if before her mother received the letter they had… if she hadn't read it then Joyce had died believing that her actions had driven her daughter irrevocably from their home. That Buffy had died.

That thought, that guilt competed with the grief, swirling around her mind until there was no room for anything else. Her lessons were completed on autopilot, and still at night she felt the girl that had attempted to protect her mother endure such torment that Buffy couldn't muster any anger at Faith for failing. It wasn't only Joyce that Buffy had failed to save; now she felt responsible for every shred of pain inflicted on her.

Buffy tried to contain the growing anxiety she felt for the other Slayer. Each morning she looked at the head table, hoping that the man in its center would have found a solution, a way to find Faith, to rescue her. She forced herself to remember what Matthew had told her during their tour of the Council buildings.

"_All this hanging about is making me twitchy. Isn't there anything we can do to help find her?"_

"_No."_

"_So we just wait?"_

"_Welcome to real life, short periods of intense action interspaced with a lot of waiting around."_

_Buffy couldn't help but return his smile, but it was a bitter amusement. She knew the reason neither of them could stop moving, both anxious to get to that period of intense action which would mean they could help the other Slayer._

She knew more than he realised about the need for patience, to discover anything possible before rushing into battle. To wait for what you most desired. Her whole time in the wizarding world had been about persistence, enduring her magical training because the outcome would be worth it. To be left alone, to return home.

That goal had been stripped from her with Matthew's words. Now she only had one. To find and save Faith.

She had spent so long telling herself that she didn't belong in this fight, going over the reasons for avoiding it. Despite this Buffy wasn't surprised that she had been dragged into the conflct. Now that it had happened, it was obvious that her involvement had always been inevitable, from the moment she had heard about the threat to the wizarding world, even before then, everything that happened had pulled her closer to the centre of this fray.

* * *

The voice she heard through Dumbledore's door almost made her turn around, run as fast as she could in the other direction. But the Headmaster had sent for her and Buffy couldn't ignore what that might mean.

"He keeps getting me to start new cauldrons, making it over and over, refining it as much as possible, delving into the properties each ingredient imparts."

"And you don't know what he plans to use it for? The first batch is nearly complete is it not?"

"Yes, a matter of days left to mature. As always he's playing us off one another, making everyone feel they are doing something important, while giving none the chance to unravel his plan. Its normal use is worrying… that he might have plans for more is-" the voice broke off abruptly, "what?"

"I believe my other guest has arrived. Come in Miss Summers."

"What's he doing here?" Buffy snapped as she entered, annoyed that Dumbledore had forced her into this situation.

"I asked him to be here"

Again she debated leaving, fleeing from the office, the castle, escaping this reality. But then Buffy caught a smirk appearing on the potions Master's face, the twinkle of enjoyment in his eyes that dared her to do just that, act like the child he expected her to be. The hatred that had been tormenting her for days rose up once again within her, but this time it finally had something, someone else to be directed at.

"You've told him about me?'" She was oddly proud that she didn't yell, that her righteous anger came out sounding restrained, an adult reaction despite the man's sneers.

"I cannot, I am bound by magic stronger than any oath." Dumbledore paused leaning back in his chair and, glancing at the man they were discussing, "However I hoped you might, so that he can help us try to understand why Faith was taken."

He hadn't found a way to get her then. If that was the case there would be no use in this, they would be gathering the Watchers, storming their enemy's castle, "But he's with what's-his-name" Buffy's statement caused the Headmaster's eyes to snap back to her.

"With who?"

"You know, Riddle, the evil wizard everyone's so terrified to admit is back." As she spoke she felt the faint pressure on her mind that seemed to be there almost every time she had Dumbledore's attention. The feeling that something was skimming over the surface of her mind, watching her thoughts.

"Severus is on our side, despite any rumours you may have heard" He lent forward, holding her gaze with such sincerity that if she hadn't known the truth Buffy would probably have believed him. Did he believe himself, Buffy wondered, was the man that everyone trusted to protect their children so easily deceived.

"He knew all about the Death Eater's book theft over solstice." Buffy kept her eyes on the man, searching for any sign of shock, surprise. Dumbledore knew, she realised. He knew and somehow justified his silence, allowing the Ministry to weave their lies.

She heard rather than saw Snape's reaction, the sound of heavy cloth moving as he turned sharply to face her and his hiss of surprise, "How do you know about that?"

Buffy faced the man, enjoying his anger. It somehow validated her own, made it easier to hide behind the illusion of calm, "Well I heard they had a library fetish so…"

"Do not toy with me _girl_" He snapped at her, eyes beginning to show annoyance.

"Don't interrupt other people's conversations!"

He grabbed her robes, completely losing that superior calm that always engulfed him however a potions lesson was disrupted, that had barely been disrupted by events in the alleyway, "How do you know?"

"How do you think?" She asked tauntingly, tugging back to escape his grasp.

The moment those words left her mouth Buffy regretted them, immediately seeing the resulting flash of understanding in the Professor's eyes. She had been too caught up in the emotions, enjoying allowing anger at something other than herself to take over, taking pleasure in the ability to make this man lose his cool, defeating him with words and actions.

"The girl… that was you?" He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, remembering what he knew of the events that fateful night. "Did you see what happened after they left?"

And that was why she should have left; in her current state she was unable to think properly, to keep her secrets. If the Wizards knew what she could become, that she was one of their ultimate fears, they wouldn't, couldn't leave her alone. What would the Watcher's do, she wondered for the hundredth time. Could they kill the girl who becomes a beast as easily as their predecessors had killed the creature she had transformed into? Would they care that for her the change had been temporary.

"Please Buffy, it is important that we know." Dumbledore finally rejoined the conversation, trying to break the pair out of their antagonism.

Buffy shrugged, trying to appear calm, "The Dementors were coming at me, then they were driven off by a weird flash of magic so I escaped through the back exit off Knockturn Alley."

"So you didn't see anything strange?" Snape asked, eyes fixed onto hers, his sharp mind flickering at the edges of her consciousness, trying to catch a lie.

"I guess Dementors in Diagon Alley don't count?"

He scowled, seeing her response for the deflection it was, but before he could demand anything more the Headmaster once more intervened, trying to calm the pair. "Buffy, Severus is a spy, he lets me know what the Death Eaters are doing."

"Okay" Buffy returned Snape's smirk at her acceptance of that statement with one of her own, "Do you know what the book was about then, why they wanted to take it?"

He glanced to Dumbledore in annoyance, wanting to question her not respond to her queries, but reluctantly did so when the Headmaster indicated, "I…I'm not party to that information."

"Then what about Faith, why did he want her?"

He glared at Dumbledore, angry for being put in this situation, that he was having to answer to her.

"A spy's pretty useless if they can't even find out what's going on." Buffy taunted, taking his glowering silence for the lack of knowledge it was.

"You think he needs a reason?" His anger finally overflowed into eloquently biting words, "He wanted a Slayer because they are different, new, rare. Because all these things fascinate him. Because he wants to understand. When he finds out about you, and believe me he shall, he will use you or break you." He looked her up and down, piercing eyes appraising her strength, accounting for every weakness, "or both."

"He knows what she is then?"

"Of course… do you think he sent the werewolves halfway across the world without knowing what he was getting?"

"And what about me?" Buffy asked, needing to know if she was in danger of receiving the same treatment.

Once again he turned to the Headmaster, waiting for his nod of permission before continuing. Was this deference an attempt to convince Buffy of the sincerity of his words, his actions, or just an act put on by the spy. Because when all was said and done a spy was just a very good liar, and Buffy had no way of knowing which of this man's words were true.

"I don't know for certain what you are, as the Headmaster told you he is unable to divulge that information. There are however obvious connections. The…" his mouth curled in distaste "creatures we spoke to gave descriptions that differed so greatly that we thought we may have been looking for some kind of metamorphmagus, but most of the more recent accounts were of a petite blonde." He looked at her pointedly, eyes trailing down her neck to where they both knew a vampire's bite mark lay hidden beneath her robes, "Given that you were living in Sunnydale until just before you came here, other… indications, and the level of your concern for her I conclude that you are also a Slayer. Perhaps some form of half breed."

"Okay… so I guess you aren't completely clueless." She could see the curiosity in his eyes but refused to comment on his assumptions. "Where is he?"

"I cannot tell you how to find the Dark Lord. Even if I did know his precise location."

"But you know how to get to him? Can't you take me there?" Buffy waved her hands about "You know, pop, appear there."

"The spells that bind that knowledge to me stop my intentionally bringing another. There are also spells that prevent the unauthorized from entering the location. Anyone who wasn't his follower would be killed by the magic the moment they apparated."

"But what about Faith?"

"What?"

"They have to have gotten her in somehow." Buffy explained slowly, expecting Snape to be angry at her slightly patronizing words but instead the Professor became thoughtful.

"Some of the low ranking Death Eaters took a delivery at the Docks at the time in question…" Snape paused, "He must have made a portkey to get her in. I hadn't realized this was that important to him." She could see the man reassessing, reevaluating. Cogs turning behind eyes while his expression revealed nothing of the direction his thoughts had taken.

"Would that help us? Can you get it?"

"Even if I could find it I wouldn't be able to take it with the intention of trying to compromise their security."

"Why not?" Her anger began to reassert itself, "Don't you want –"

"Miss Summers" Dumbledore interrupted before they could return to sniping at one another, standing to position himself between them in front of the desk, "You were unable to tell the Watchers about wizards, were you not?"

"Yes."

"Riddle has used a similar spell to the one that protects the wizarding world. It prevents you from divulging the secret to any outside it."

"But… they already knew about magic. Why couldn't I tell them?"

"Many magics are dependent not on the reality of the world but on your perception of it. The spell reacted to your belief that you would be disclosing the secret of the wizarding world, not the reality that those you were speaking to were already party to the knowledge." Dumbledore explained, "To cast the killing curse does not require that the person you attack deserves hatred, or that your desire to kill is justified, merely that you feel it."

"That is why there's no question of intentions in wizarding courts." Snape added, "It is impossible to cast a spell correctly if you do not want it to work. One cannot intentionally break certain magical compulsions."

"What is the point in you being here then?" Buffy asked, annoyed at the discovery that there was still nothing they could do to find Faith, that once again that night she would have to witness a torture she couldn't stop.

"It takes a great deal of power to bind knowledge in this way, it is only his location that I am prevented from divulging, not his actions and plans. Those he trusts to be safe within those who follow him."

Buffy scowled, "Fine, so what's he doing?"

"I told you I-"

"Not with Faith, what else has he been up to?"

Out of his element answering the questions of a student, he uncomfortably admitted, "The Dark Lord has never been open about his intentions, he has always given out tasks without explanation. His most obvious actions have been aimed at Potter or restoring his power. And obtaining a Slayer."

"Right… like that's anything we needed a _spy_ to figure out." Buffy remarked, drawing a glare from the man, "Why does he hate Harry anyway? I mean, he was just a kid the first time wasn't he."

"Nobody-" He began, but bit off the lie when Dumbledore lays a hand on his shoulder.

"Stop, my boy. She needs to understand, to see the reason behind his actions. To know that there must be an explanation for his current ones. We both know this goes beyond his interest in the rare and unique." Snape held the Headmaster's gaze for a long moment, the pair somehow communicating without words, and then relented with a sigh.

"To most in the wizarding world the decision to attack the Potters, Harry specifically is seen as a simple act of evil, of revenge for their many actions against him but that is not the case. That was never the case." Snape paused before reluctantly continuing, "Every effort the Dark Lord makes has a motive, the seemingly random acts of terror he directed us in always to complete a further goal or cunningly placed where they would cause the most fear. The Potters were a… nuisance, yes but not worth the effort involved in eliminating them."

"Then why…"

"There was a prophecy, or a part of one, that pointed to a person who could defeat the Dark Lord."

"And that sent him after Harry? I thought wizards didn't really believe in prophecy – everyone in Ravenclaw treats Divination as a joke. Or… they did under Trelawny anyway." A few of the girls seemed to have changed their opinion since the muscular Centaur had taken over the position of Professor.

"There are many and varied forms of foretelling, some less respected than others, but there are also those, especially among the older families, who know that certain things should not be overlooked. Whatever the Dark Lord thought of the prophecy, there were those among his followers who would see him as weak if he ignored the warning."

"But… it was warning about a baby!"

"Even so, there is strength in some words, and it is foolish to allow an enemy to become dangerous if they can be dispatched while weak."

"And now he can't ignore Harry because of what happened, he'd lose face." Buffy mused, understanding the fascination this wizard had with the boy.

"As Dumbledore said, while it is true that the Dark Lord has an interest in many things, rewarding those who bring details of old or unusual magic, he risked a lot to get Faith. Something he would only do if the benefits were far greater."

Buffy looked at the two Wizards, unsure what to do, how much to trust them with. She only remembered the torture, a vague knowledge that questions were being asked which Faith was unable to answer, resulting in more pain, "Harry said that he thought what she knew was vital." She mused aloud, but what would a Slayer know that a powerful Wizard couldn't learn elsewhere.

"Harry… what does he know about her?"

Buffy winced, she hadn't intended to reveal Harry's part in this, but now it had been mentioned there was no point in denials, "He's how I figured out what my dreams meant. Harry had similar dreams and from what he said…" from what he said she had finally, belatedly been roused into action.

"I didn't realise you were close enough for him to confide in" Dumbledore commented, intrigued by this addition to her revelations in London.

"I'm not. I overheard." At their confusion she pointed to her ears, "All the better to hear you with…"

"So Harry has witnessed some of this torture?" Dumbledore asked sorrowfully, "Severus, you must…"

"It is not my fault that the boy refuses to try!" he snapped.

"He is…"

"I know, I know." Snape interrupted, unwilling to hear the importance of his most hated pupil expanded upon. "What would she know?"

"How to fight?" Buffy shrugged. "It's not like slayers get given some magical secret to keep." Even as she said it, Buffy realised the words weren't entirely true. They weren't told any secrets, but there was a location no one else could enter, full of the magical research of generations of Guardians.

Should she tell them, Buffy wondered, give them entrance to the room hidden behind Camilla's portrait. In that moment where she considered hiding it from them, something changed. Snape's eyes took on a sharp quality and she once again felt the pressure on her mind, no longer a whisper to assess the truth of her words but a knife, digging into her brain to try and uncover the thoughts behind her expression.

She tried to speak but the feeling only intensified, distracting her from what she was saying, it was beginning to force out images of memories related to her calling; vampires… fighting… Angel... "can you get out of my head!" Buffy finally yelled at him as she managed to overcome the invasion in her mind. "You too." She said, rounding on the Headmaster whose feather light caress of curiosity remained, "For future reference, mindreading doesn't help build trust." The look on his face at her outburst was almost comical and she felt a ripple of emotion through the cloud of his thoughts that rested on hers; surprise and embarrassment. A flush took over Dumbledore's features and he seemed about to speak but Buffy reacted before he could, striding to the door.

Buffy wrenched open the door, making the hinges groan with the force of her action and paused for a second before leaving, "Let me know when you find her." She was annoyed by the flash of relief that showed at her words but knew they were necessary, she needed him if there was any chance of saving Faith. Needed the Headmaster but not his spy, not someone who expected to be trusted without trusting.

Anger still flowed through Buffy as she rushed through the corridors of the castle, a reaction to the memories he had induced. Her thoughts of her lover were so jumbled by the news of his return that she didn't know what to feel, but the memories forced out came not only with images but emotions, and love for Angel had washed over her like a tidal wave, with an intensity that she hadn't felt in months. That storm was calm now, but everything brought out by the encounter, by the last hellish week, refused to leave.

When Buffy finally reached her destination, she threw open the portrait door and attacked the girl that emerged from behind her own image, finally letting out her anger and regrets in the only way she knew.

~ to be continued... ~

_**A/N:**__- I'm not such a social butterfly over the next few weeks (getting older makes people want to spend time with you... who'd have thought) so the next part should be up in a fortnight on schedule... I hope. Feel free to be critical of this chapter if you think it deserves it... any outside help pointing out what it is that seems wrong would be useful._


	57. The More Things Change

_**A/N:-** Sorry for the delay... I actually came on to check on review replies and found I'd forgotten to post this chapter. At least you shouldn't have long to wait for the next though. I hope everyone else is enjoying the summer as much as I am (now that we're occasionally actually getting some sun)._

_Thank you Unknown, enchantedlight, DemonKittyAngel and MalfoyMaladyoftheDark for your reviews, I am always grateful for any feedback._

_And last but in no way least, I'd like to thank to Anneliese who ever so kindly offered to beta this and saved this chapter from writers block by patiently responding to my barrage of emails. This wouldn't have been as good if I had forced it out alone._

**_The More Things Change_**

"Hey, Buffy. You're up early." Neville broke the quiet melancholy of her breakfast as he slumped down beside her, "where were you yesterday?"

"Yesterday?" Buffy asked, somewhat confused that the Gryffindor had seated himself at the Ravenclaw table.

"The meeting." He whispered meaningfully, rattling the change in a pocket of his robes.

Buffy took out her Galleon, surprised to find the changed serial number without the warmth that usually enveloped the coin when they changed. She must have deactivated it some time earlier in the week without remembering it being active, caught up in the maelstrom of thoughts that the weekend had evoked.

"Oh… I had a meeting with Dumbledore and…" She broke off, realizing that despite her dislike of Snape and what he had done, causing any questions about him would risk exposing or at the very least raising suspicions about them both. There was no reason for her to be having meetings with the Slytherin Head of House. "… and I wasn't really feeling up to it."

Concern overtook Neville's usually jovial expression "You know if you want to…"

"No." There was no way she could begin to voice the thoughts that surrounded her mother's death, even if it wasn't so entwined with everything else that she was forced to hide. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm…"

"Coping?" Neville suggested sympathetically.

"Yeah, just about."

"It's okay if you don't want to talk, or don't want to come to D.A. anymore, but don't forget we're here for you if you need us. We all wanted to tell you that last night."

Buffy felt a wave of warmth at his sentiment, the caring threatening to break down the fragile barriers around her grief that enabled her to function. This was why she had avoided those who might attempt to offer comfort. "All of you?" Buffy questioned, deflecting, but also certain that at least one of the members remained suspicious of her, more so perhaps since her disappearance with the Headmaster. Despite her overwhelming emotions, she hadn't missed the stares coming at her from the Gryffindor table, equal parts empathy and suspicion.

Neville looked at her with wide sorrowful eyes for a long moment before replying, seeing her relief when he allowed the change of subject, "Harry… he doesn't find it easy to trust."

"You don't say." She commented drily, the memory of his reaction to her joining D.A. far too fresh to be forgotten.

"He... they think it's strange that the Headmaster went with you."

Buffy shrugged, unwilling to voice the lie that Dumbledore had crafted in the face of such guileless intentions, and was glad when a crash prevented any further offers of friendship from Neville.

The doors to the great hall slammed open, permitting a wave of sound to enter followed by the Gryffindor Quidditch team and most of the male members of the house. A dark head instinctively turned to meet her eyes and frowned when he noted the other occupant of the Ravenclew table.

"Don't worry too much about Harry." Neville said, having followed her gaze, "I don't think he's sleeping well, and it's making him snap at everyone. He's even been annoyed at Hagrid about something the last couple of days, and they're really close."

He stood to go and join his housemates, and Buffy couldn't help but follow his movement over to the Gryffindor table where green eyes remained directed at her. She turned away from the glare with a sigh, wondering if it was worth returning to D.A., worth facing Harry again.

Before she'd had a reason to put up with his distrust, to study as hard as she was able so that she might pass her exams, go home. But now, now the urgency of her return was gone and she had no real reason for trying to meet the impossible task that the Minister had set. A task which even then had seemed to be aimed more at distracting Dumbledore than any need for her to succeed academically.

Her housemates eyed her as they began to fill out the table and Buffy felt their concern, compassion aimed at her, none of them certain how to help the stranger in their midst. She quickly finished her breakfast and rose before the fifth years that knew her best arrived and tried like Neville to provide comfort, support.

To relieve the guilty relief they felt that the rumours that had spread like wildfire through the school when news of the death had first come were false. They shouldn't feel relieved about anything to do with the death of their friend's mother, but they still felt it. Any strange happenings raised questions about You-Know-Who, and a Muggleborn's parent fitted too closely the pattern of those targeted before.

Their fears had already been countered by the time Buffy noticed them. The reassurance quickly posted by the Ministry as embodied by the Hogwarts High Inquisitor that Joyce had died in a theft gone wrong did less to ease the concerns than the knowledge that it had happened in America, far away from the feared wizard's hunting grounds. But despite Umbridge's attempts to quash any rumours, the shadow of their concerns remained in the flash of fear that lurked behind concerned eyes, in the adrenaline filled exuberance of believing that all was well. In the shame in Anthony's eyes that he felt anything but sorrow for Buffy's loss.

Buffy left the table before he could reach her, unable to face that expression. It too closely mirrored one she had seen in a mirror, reminding her of her own guilt.

* * *

Buffy expected the usual brush on her mind when she entered Dumbledore's office but there was nothing and the man behind the desk somehow seemed more contained than usual. Even the air of the room seemed slightly muted, less vibrant than she was used to in the presence of the Headmaster.

"Thank you for coming Miss Summers" Dumbledore smiled invitingly, waiting for Buffy to respond, or perhaps move further into the room. After a long pause he cleared his throat and continued, "Yes, well, you will be glad to know that I called you here because I believe I have completed my analysis of the item I took from the Council."

The headmaster placed a small, black item in a clear space on his desk. Next to the gadgets that graced the rest of the surface it was unassuming, a black crystal spinning top Buffy realised as she moved closer to take a better look.

"You've found Faith with that?" Buffy didn't want to assume that it was true before he said so outright, but couldn't help but hope in the face of the man's reassuring certainty.

"Not yet. There is one last part that is needed."

"What?"

"Your blood."

Buffy instinctively recoiled from the item she had been reaching to touch, taking a step back "Why?" she asked, suspicion lacing her tone.

Dumbledore smiled at her response, "Your Professors have taught you enough to be wary of such a request? That is a credit to them."

She shrugged, still reluctant to trust that there was no ulterior motive, "Professor Snape warned us to take care of anything that contains traces of your power."

"Yes, it is wise to be careful of items like fingernails, hair…"

"and blood."

"Precisely. Even something as seemingly benign as a parchment on which you have written your own name." Dumbledore completed with an open grin, "No doubt he informed you of how such things can be used in mischievous or harmful magic. This is because these items are linked back to your magical signature, but it is that very signature that we are trying to tap into."

He went to a cabinet and took out another crystal top, this one clear where the other was dark and joined Buffy in front of the desk to show her what he had in his hand.

"One of the reasons that family ties in the magical world are so important is that they don't just bind us together by name and blood, or genetics as the muggles now like to call it, but by magic." As he spoke the Headmaster placed his finger on the needle pointed top, allowing his blood to drip down into previously invisible holes in the surface, bleeding into the crystal until the whole toy was shot through with the bright red liquid. "This top is a way of locating those ties."

Dumbledore moved the dark crystal top and spun the one laced with his blood on the desk. A glow began to emerge from it and him, adding a white lining to his entire frame and as Buffy drew closer to look the glow from the top continued getting brighter until a red light shot out to the north, forming a bright white image of a man.

"This is my brother, Aberforth" Even as he spoke the picture gained clarity, the familial resemblance quickly becoming evident.

"So that's the direction he's in? But that won't help much…"

"Wait" Dumbledore interrupted "It isn't done."

As he spoke the office between the silhouette of his brother and the top took on a bright red hue which gradually solidified into the shape of terrain, mapping the land between the top and the man, a detailed depiction of the area between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Dumbledore moved to survey the image and Buffy saw that the office between him and the top was also tinted red, and that there were others, less solid points of white emerging all around with fuzzy red beams joining them to the top.

"They are cousins, second cousins. If left more will appear and they will get clearer but it will only ever be as strong as the magical connection." He stopped the top and the lights that had filled the room faded, forcing Buffy's eyes to adjust to the suddenly dark room.

"So with my blood this could find Faith?"

"No. This is linked to magical power. If we purified it and used your blood it would show your closest family ties, your parents, siblings. Anything further than first cousins is usually impossible to clearly make out."

It wasn't hard to discern the reason behind the twinkle in his eyes at that statement, the offer implicit in it. This wouldn't find Faith, they may be distantly related but their joint connection to the Slayer line could date back centuries, to before the founding of the school. So many generations apart that the other Slayer would only appear as one of many blurred white dots linked by indiscernible red lines of light. He was giving her a change to ask for the use of the top, the chance to find her parents.

But that wasn't something she wanted to consider now. Not with the grief for her mother fresh in her heart and this unfilled need to rescue Faith the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart. Like Flitwick, Dumbledore seemed confused that she didn't want to seek out her parents, unable to understand her lack of curiosbut left the decision to her.

"This, on the other hand was I believe designed to tap into the other half of your power, to find those with Slayer's power using a Slayer's blood." Dumbledore stated, passing Buffy the black spinning top.

"Are you sure it will work?"

Uncharacteristically, the Headmaster shrugged, "I'm not even certain that it does what I think," he smiled apologetically. "The power is completely different to normal magic and resilient to it, it almost seems to absorb magic. But the structure of the spell is identical and blood magics are almost impossible to block. That is why Professor Snape was so wise to warn against them." He gave her an encouraging smile, "We know that you have a strong connection to Faith, it is how you are able to share her experiences in your dreams. This should trace that link back to her."

"All right" She took the dark top and pierced her skin with the sharp spike of the handle, letting her blood trickle down the sides to infuse the item. When the top was filled Dumbledore took it from her and set it spinning on an empty part of his huge desk.

Immediately a darkness engulfed Buffy's frame, a darkness that absorbed all other light that came near to it and a deep, blood red glow fringing the office floor between her and the desk. Another beam of dark light emerged from the top but instead of shooting off as the white light emerging from the other crystal top had, it hovered above the top, occasionally beginning to jump in seemingly random directions but never fixing on one, swinging about like a compass surrounded by magnets. It grew brighter, engulfing the light from the desk lamp, but never took form.

"What's wrong?" Buffy looked at Dumbledore who seemed as disappointed by the result as she was, "Does it just take longer to settle…"

"I'm sorry." He cautiously lay a hand on her shoulder, the dark light sending a shiver through him as it touched his skin, "She must be warded by blood magic."

"So… what does that mean?"

"We can't find her."

"But..." Buffy stared at the flitting dark glow, willing it to fix on a direction, "Look! It keeps going south, maybe…" she broke off as it swung north east, hovering there for a long moment before resuming its constant motion.

"I wish there was something else we could try but…" Dumbledore's voice waivered slightly and he moved away from Buffy, sitting heavily down in the chair before his desk and reaching over to stop the spinning top, flinching slightly at the touch of the dark energy. The room brightened as the dark light dissipated, lighting the Headmaster's unnaturally pale features.

"Are you okay?"

"It seems your Slayer power doesn't agree with me." He reached over for a paper bag on his desk and popped one of the contents into his mouth, "Chocolate éclair?" he offered the packet to Buffy.

"No thank you." Buffy watched as his pallor slowly began to improve, "There's nothing left then?"

"Unfortunately not. Unless you know anything else…"

"I-" Buffy felt a flicker of something on the edge of her consciousness. She began to strengthen her mental barriers to withstand the coming onslaught… which never came.

The faint touch eased to a whisper in her thoughts then, with obvious effort on the part of the Headmaster, that receded until it took all her concentration to focus on the trace that remained.

And looked sharply at the headmaster who flushed slightly with embarrassment.

"My apologies," Dumbledore said, flushed slightly with embarrassment, "I did not intend to intrude upon your thoughts."

"Then why do you?" Buffy snapped, her anger at the constant invasions of her mind revived.

"It is not intentional, a legillimens is always to some degree aware of the thoughts of those around him. It is not a skill that one can turn off." He winced, the colour that had returned fading fast, "Or not without considerable effort which I currently cannot maintain."

"What Snape did on Monday wasn't unintentional."

"No. It is a skill that can be used purposefully to extract thoughts from others, things they do not intend to say. Professor Snape should not have used this on a student, but then I too am guilty of slips in control when curiosity has overcome me."

"That wasn't curiosity." Buffy contested, she had felt the intention in the tendrils that had attempted to penetrate her thoughts.

"Perhaps not, but neither is it something he will be doing again." Dumbledore stated firmly enough that Buffy believed him, "Normally leglimency doesn't allow the user any more than an intuitive sense of another's emotions, little more than one might see in their body language or tone."

"So that justifies it?" Buffy asked, filled with righteous anger, "That you don't see much? That it's involuntary?"

"No, but I think someone who can inadvertently overhear conversations others believe to be private should understand the difficulties of limiting a skill."

* * *

"Lucius"

The man's sedate step across the darkened chamber broke at his master's tone and he hurried to kneel before his chair.

"You have completed the task I set you?"

"Of course, my Lord." Lucius Malfoy reached beneath his robes and brought out a long knife that he presented to the man before him. A slim white hand emerged from the pool of shadow that engulfed the chair and reached out to caress the blade.

"Yes, this is the one. You have done well Lucius."

"Thank you my Lord."

"Any progress at the Ministry?"

"N… Not yet my Lord, Nott has…" he stumbled over his admission of failure, attempting to divert attention away.

"I did not ask what Nott was doing." The icy voice bit out, causing an instinctive flinch in the man before him.

"I apologise, I-"

"You remain unable to obtain anything of value. No matter…" He took hold of the knife, twisting the blade so that the blood red stone on the hilt flashed in the candlelight, "With this we can walk in and take it."

"I don't want to question you My Lord but I don't understand, how will that…"

A cold laugh echoed through the chamber, "No need to strain yourself Lucius, all will become clear in time."

"As you say, my Lord."

"Time to visit our guest, I think." As he rose from the chair a sharp hiss emerged from the darkness and a large snake slithered from its hiding place in the shadow of his lap, playfully lunging at Malfoy before slipping out of the room.

* * *

Buffy collapsed onto her bed, once again she had retreated to Camilla's chamber where she could lose herself in the motions of fists and blades, in the rhythm of the fight which left no space in her head for other concerns. Banishing the memory of Joyce's death, the knowledge that this night, like the ones that preceded it she would be reminded just what her inability to find Faith meant for the other Slayer.

She fought with the statue, past the point of exhaustion, past caring that this was draining her energy to the point that she was barely able to cast. Covered in cuts and bruises which were beginning to take longer to heal, her body unable to keep up with the punishment she was putting herself through. As soon as she hit the sheets Buffy fell into a dreamless sleep.

Hours later a light coming through her curtains woke her, the first traces of lazy awareness suddenly forced into complete clarity as Buffy jolted up. It was morning. Late in the morning if the glow of sunlight filtering through the windows was anything to go by. For the first time in nearly a month she had slept through the night. She tried to remember, but where she had become used to there being memories of pain there was nothing, an empty void of uninterrupted sleep.

She should perhaps be happy, that her fellow slayer hadn't been tortured that night, but Buffy couldn't help but feel that this change only meant something else, something worse. Her rising dread came from more than just the missing dreams. A connection, which she had barely noticed when it was there, was also gone, a void in her power where since the dreams had begun, a link to Faith had grown.

Buffy didn't want to consider what that could mean. Trying to shake that thought from her head, she quickly packed her things and rushed to her first class, entering the Charms room just as Professor Flitwick began.

She entered the Great Hall and immediately lost her appetite. The Watcher that she had bumped into in London, Wesley was sitting at the top table between Dumbledore and Umbridge with a serious expression on his face. Buffy turned to the Ravenclaw table and immediately changed her mind, there was a reason that she had been avoiding the midday meal, it was so much harder to find a time when the space wasn't crowded, filled with the compassion she was trying to avoid and none of the easy distractions granted by lessons.

Buffy caught Anthony's surprised eye for a moment before slipping her gaze away, pretending not to notice him gesture her over. Her attention inevitably ended back on the top table where Umbridge seemed to be alternating between sending gleeful glares at the Headmaster and distasteful looks at Wesley. Whatever reason they had given for him being here, it was something that left the woman confused how to react. But it wasn't his cover that Buffy was interested in, that was no doubt already spreading through the school rumour mill. What Buffy wanted to know was the real motivation behind the Watchers sending him here.

She turned around, heading out of the hall straight to Dumbledore's office, a space that had become all too familiar in the last week. Once there she paced, unable to keep still. When the five short steps up and down the office began to try her patience she threw herself into Dumbledore's chair and began to spin, letting the world whirl past but unable to send her worries flying off with it. Every time the castle creaked she jumped up, hoping that it was the Headmaster making his return. But apparently this was the day that he decided to loiter over lunch, and it was well into the next period when the door finally opened.

"What happened?"

"Ah Miss Summers, I suspected we might find you here." The Headmaster smiled amiably, unperturbed by being accosted as he entered his office.

"Hello" Wesley greeted with a smile.

"So?" Buffy prompted staring pointedly at the young man who finally reached the conclusion that he was meant to say something.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you here, what went wrong?" She asked, exasperated by his lack of understanding. Why wasn't Matthew here, someone who might understand that it was important to impart pertinent information as soon as possible.

"Nothing is wrong, we managed to contrive a reason to send someone here…"

"Nothing is wrong?" Buffy interrupted, "Something's happened to Faith!"

"Something has… what?"

"Last night. I didn't dream and I can't even feel her. She could be…"

"She's alive" Wesley broke in, finally having something to answer the girl's growingly frantic questions.

"You're sure?"

Dumbledore gave her a reassuring smile, "If she was dead another would have been called. She must be alive."

"Then what has he done to her? What's changed?"

"I don't know." He mused, "It could be a form of mind control, that might break your connection to her thoughts."

"They tried that already. Imperio works as well on Slayers as legillimency, and the potions that seemed to affect her thoughts never lasted very long." Buffy shrugged grimly, "Slayer metabolisms are fast."

Dumbledore stared at her for a long moment and Buffy realised that this was something she hadn't said, that in all her detailed explanations of the dreams she had never gone into details of the forms that the torture took. She had seen the hopelessness in their eyes, which grew at every mention of the spells used, and had avoided saying too much. And they hadn't asked, not wanting to remind her or not wanting to know what the trapped girl was being forced to endure, how far gone the girl they planned to save was. The dreams were, she knew, one of the reasons she had reacted so badly to Snape's leglimency earlier in the week. Buffy had felt exactly what it was like to have that skill used on you as a weapon, to feel another's thoughts hacking through your mind.

"Buffy I-" he broke off and in his gaze Buffy read the regret in his eyes, as telling as this first use of her first name. This man, the wizard that their entire world relied upon to protect them from the rising evil, had no idea what to do, how to find out what their new plans for her sister slayer were.

Feeling a coin warming in her pocket, Buffy suddenly knew where to get the information Dumbledore was unable to provide.

~ to be continued... ~

_**A/N:-** As ever I would love to know any comments or thoughts you have. The muse is peckish ; )._


	58. Secrets in the Spotlight

_**A/N:-** Aaaand here's more! Enjoy._

_**Secrets in the Spotlight**_

Voices abruptly silenced and three heads turned to greet her when Buffy entered the room. She returned Hermione and Ginny's sympathetic smiles weakly and ignored Ron's glare, leaving them to return to their conversation as she looked for the person she needed. Buffy spotted Harry in a corner lounging on a pile of cushions reading one of the many worn tomes that adorned the shelves.

Buffy walked over to the boy and pulled the book out of his hands, ignoring the scowl that appeared when Harry recognised her.

"What has he done to her?"

Harry looked up at her lazily, allowing the moment to lengthen. She could see his excitement at finally having a reason to confront her, righteous anger flashing in his eyes. Finally he drawled, "Who done to who?"

"The girl you've been seeing tortured." Buffy reminded him bluntly. She couldn't be bothered with the games she had spent a week playing with the Headmaster, with tiptoeing around subjects and avoiding confrontation. "What happened to her last night?""

That stumped Harry, the memory of those dreams knocking the anger out of him, "You... you know about her?"

"Oi!"

She had been so focused on Harry, was so intent on learning what he knew that her weakened senses hadn't noticed Ron's approach.

He grabbed her shoulder spinning her around, "you cant just…"

Harry silenced him, with a hand on his arm, using the leverage to pull himself to his feet, even his slight frame setting him inches above Buffy.

"How do you know?" He bit out, daring her to lie, not to respond.

"I overheard you guys talking." Buffy admitted, causing Hermione to halt for a moment in her steps before continuing on to join Harry and Ron, the disappointment in her eyes so much harder to face than the anger of the boys.

"How did you-"

"How dare you-"

Hermione's confusion and Ron's anger seamlessly overlapped but Harry, strangely remained silent, thoughtful despite the anger that remained. Buffy waited for his response. He was the one who might know something, the one she had to convince to talk to her.

"What do you know about last night?" He took a step back, finally realising what her knowing that might mean. The only ones who knew about Voldemort's actions were his followers. Harry stumbled slightly on the cushions behind him, flinching away from the hand Buffy offered to catch him and grabbing instead onto Hermione. "What do you know about last night?"

"Nothing! I'm here to find out."

"But… how do you know something changed?" Harry demanded, eyeing her suspiciously, "Why do you even care?"

"She's... we're connected. Or we were. That's all I know, it's how I knew something was wrong. And I care because…" her eyes welled up and she shook her head to clear them, refusing to let her exhaustion and agitation bring her to tears, "I care because it could have, should have been me."

Harry's face softened for a moment with reluctant compassion, understanding all too well the pain of another being harmed in your place, seeing for a moment his own regret, the face of the boy his actions had killed.

"Last night the connection broke?" He clarified, suddenly eerily calm in the face of Buffy's growing agitation, his face firm again with resolve.

"Yes. Will you tell me what happened to her?" Hopeful eyes met his understanding gaze and in that moment Buffy knew that he would help, he had to. He too had watched a girl go through the worst kinds of agony without any means of helping, saving her. How could he not do this?

"No."

Buffy thought she had heard wrong. She knew she had seen it, that flash of empathy.

"No." Harry's tone was resolute, ignoring Buffy's shocked disappointment, "First you explain what you are, just how you're connected."

He caught Hermione's eye and added with the first smile since she had entered, "And answer any of Hermione's questions."

* * *

It took half an hour for all the members of D.A. to arrive and be told that the lesson was cancelled, some leaving more readily than others. Zacharias seemingly only loitered in order to complain about the organization of the group, while Neville and Anthony were reluctant to leave Buffy alone with the three Gryffindors. The pale, faded figure of the girl curled in one of the four randomly coloured armchairs that the room had provided, seemed even more frail lost amongst the cushions and brought out the boy's protective side. With a weak smile, Buffy convinced them that this was something she wanted, and at last only the five initial occupants of the room remained.

Ron and Ginny argued by the door as,he tried to convince her to leave. For a moment as she pulled away from him into the room a fifth armchair, this one a dusty faded purple, began to flicker into existence, but then her brother caught Ginny's arm and used his superior strength to force her out of the door. As it shut behind her, an array of bolts appeared on the back of the door and, when he slid the first across with a deep thunk, the purple armchair disappeared back into whatever void it had emerged from.

He turned back to the group, dusting off his hands in a satisfied manner, and was unable to contain a slight smirk when the door was rattled and a stream of insults shrieked from behind it. Ron joined them, collapsing with a sigh into a bright orange armchair, "Where were we?"

Harry's eyes had barely left hers since she had entered the room and they bore into her further at that, "Buffy was about to tell us everything."

She felt a flicker of something else in her mind and stared shocked at Harry. He was trying to read her mind.

Before she could react to this underhand action the feeling spluttered and disappeared, only to return. This touch was nothing like what she had felt from Dumbledore or Snape, it was an unstable force, pulsing in and out with his waves of anger, driven by his desire to know the truth. She studied him as the force came and went, and realised there was no thought behind it, only anger. Buffy wasn't even sure he knew what he was doing.

"The girl that you saw, she and I are both part magical creature."

"Slayers." Harry stated, understanding the word that had seemed so out of context in his dreams.

"Yes, we are Slayers."

Ron looked at Hermione expectantly, waiting for an explanation that never came.

"I haven't read anything about…"

"You mean there's something you don't know about?" Ron interrupted gleefully.

"You wouldn't have read anything about Slayers." Buffy said, trying to rid Hermione of her frown, annoyed at a puzzle she was unable to solve, "The International Confederation of Warlocks deemed us too dangerous to be known about."

"Slayers are the creatures in Clause 75?" Hermione asked, eyes bright with excitement.

"How do you…"

"The International Statute of Secrecy is covered in History of Magic in fourth year and referenced often by Care of Magical Creatures and D.A.D.A. I considered it prudent to…"

"And that's the Hermione we all know and love." Ron interrupted before Hermione could get onto the inevitable berating of him and Harry for not having memorised the thing themselves.

"Are you dangerous?" Harry finally spoke up again, eyes and mind digging into Buffy's, "Were they right?"

"I don't know." Buffy answered truthfully, "Are you?"

"What?"

"That wand gives you the power to cause pain, to kill with a word and a flick of the wrist. Are you dangerous?"

"But… Harry would never do those things."

Harry flushed guiltily at Ron's trusting words, unable to forget that for the best part of a month he had spent his dreams doing just that to a helpless girl, a girl that Buffy claimed she was somehow connected to.

"There are those in my country who say owning a gun is dangerous just because it gives the ability to kill, even if you never plan to use it that way." Buffy shrugged, "Wizards deem Werewolves and Giants dangerous without caring if they have any intention to do harm."

"You're saying the International Confederation made this Clause because they were prejudiced?" Hermione asked, appalled by the thought.

Buffy smiled weakly at the new purpose in her eyes, "No, I'm saying they did it because they were scared, that they had a reason to be. Slayers are strong, fast and resistant to magic."

Harry nodded at that, Buffy was disturbingly good at avoiding spells cast her way but in their D.A. classes it was inevitable that she would eventually get hit, and she had never seemed to react quite right. The assumption that her opponent's spell was weak or miscast only worked so many times before it became suspect, before it became clear that the only common denominator was Buffy.

He doubted any of the others had noticed, partners were usually rotated and Harry was the only one with the opportunity to see the trend, adding it to the list of reasons not to trust the girl. A list that was quickly falling apart under the force of a gut feeling that told him to believe her, that what she was telling them was true.

"So you and the girl are both Slayers. That doesn't explain how you know something happened last night."

"You're not the only one who has had dreams Harry." She murmured, her eyes gone dark with the memories behind them.

"You-" He couldn't finish the sentence, too horrified by what that statement could mean about her connection to the girl. That she might have felt the pain he had dreamt of inflicting.

"I only realised what they meant after I overheard you… that it was happening now to someone else, and since then we've been trying to find Faith, to figure out what he wants from her."

"We? So your meetings with Dumbledore have been about trying to find her?" Harry clarified, in his need to forget any guilt he was unable to prevent the jealousy that caused from overcoming him.

"Is your mother even dead?"

Even as he said it Harry knew that it was out of line. Time stood still, stretching out for a long moment as his companions overcome the shock of realising that they had heard right, that he had said what they thought. Seconds later as he heard Hermione's disapproving gasp, a surprisingly weak slap impacted on his cheek, weak considering the super strength she claimed to have anyway. His head snapped sideways and he could already feel a bruise forming on his jaw but it wasn't anything stronger than what Hermione could have done. And might still do if the look in her eyes was anything to go by.

"My mother was killed when they took her, while I was stuck here learning stupid tricks." She spat out, making all three flinch with the impact of her words, "I didn't even know until…" she paused again to collect herself before directing her emotion, all those recriminations and self loathing back at Harry.

"I've done what you asked." Buffy growled, barely controlling the urge to hurt him more, "Told you what I know. You had some right to that. I think it's your turn now."

"I-" Harry shook his head, trying to clear the whiplash from the blow, "He gave her a knife. Cut her hand then made her hold it and she… she stopped struggling."

"A knife?" Buffy asked, confused.

"Sorry, that's all I know. He got them to let her out and she was…" he struggled for the right word, "Calm. She was calm, followed his orders without question. It was as if she was under the Imperius Curse but…"

"But that was easy to shake off, it never worked before." Buffy finished for him.

"No" Harry agreed, feeling all the guilt of knowing for certain that Buffy knew, had experienced the torture he could remember inflicting, returning exponentially increased, compounded by what he had said to her. He had to look away from her, from the reminder of what he'd done and found Ron's eyes, his friend silently checking that they should trust her.

"Have you…" Buffy turned hopefully to Hermione, missing Harry's slight nod to his best friend.

"I don't know anything that could do that. You can cast compulsion charms on objects but they are usually for single tasks; nothing like the control of the Imperius."

"What about the diary?" Ron broke in, looking at the bolted door with regret, but it had long stopped rattling. He too easily forgot what his sister had gone through, that she had earned some right to be here, preferring not to think about those terrifying hours when Ginny was gone.

"Diary?" Buffy repeated, following the gaze filled with remembered fear, but his line of sight did nothing to clarify what he meant.

The proud grin that overtook Hermione's face quickly proved it wasn't a strange statement to her. "Of course!" Ron flushed, his expression a mix of pride and guilt, at Hermione's enthusiastic response, smiling tolerantly as she continued, "In our second year Harry found an old diary that possessed people who wrote in it. The original owner had made his memories sentient, a reflection of what he was like when he wrote it. He was called Tom Riddle."

"So… he might have done the same to the knife?" Buffy continuing before Hermione could voice her surprise at Buffy knowing the name, "How did you break the possession?"

Harry laughed darkly, the bitter sound drawing all attention back to him, "Got a Basilisk handy?"

* * *

Buffy shivered slightly, drawing her robes around her as she berated herself for failing to bring her cloak. It was appropriate that they were meeting back here, in the courtyard where she had met Remus before first finding out about Rowena Ravenclaw's study, but the sense of completion didn't stop her wishing that they had arranged to meet indoors away from the biting winds. Even for such a cold Saturday it was quiet, all the students and many of the teachers off celebrating that Valentines day had landed on a weekend, and they could have met just as secretly elsewhere.

The glass door rattled the melodic humming which became audible as soon as the door cracked open letting Buffy know that this wasn't the person she was waiting for. She looked up at the faint sound of the door beginning to open again, her movement startling Professor Sprout and sending the plants in her arms flying.

"Goodness! I didn't see you there." She exclaimed, gasping for the breath that the shock had knocked out of her, "Oh dear…" the Herbology Professor sighed as she took in the destruction around her, she lent down to pick up the scattered plants and broke into another tune.

"Don't!" she paused her melody to stop Buffy from helping to pick up the spindly flowers, waving Buffy off with barely a break in the song.

"I'm sorry Pomona, did we startle you?" Dumbledore asked as he reached the pair, "Ah Tuned Chicory," he continued unperturbed by the fact that his member of staff was ignoring him and instead humming to herself as she looked over the plants she had rescued so far, "Let me take those for you."

As if their actions hadn't been strange enough already, he too began to sing when the Herbology Professor handed over her collection, inspecting them for injuries.

"Might as well lend a hand, you'll be studying them on Monday." She told Buffy when she noticed her standing to one side, "Just remember to sing. They can't survive long without music."

Humming tunelessly, Buffy picked up the remainder of the fallen plants, feeling them vibrate as she did, a sympathetic response to her music.

"Headmaster!" Wesley exclaimed as he entered the courtyard, "I'm sorry for being late, I was-" he broke off, finally noticing what was happening, that there was someone else there.

The Herbology Professor surveyed the three of them for a long moment, "Well, I suppose I'd better let you get on then." she retrieved her plants from Buffy and Dumbledore and, quietly singing The Three Stooges, continued on her way to the greenhouses.

"It's probably better not to ask." Buffy spoke up before Wesley could form any questions about their bizarre behavior.

"Yes. Well, now that we are all here." Dumbledore began, gesturing for the others to follow him. He led them around to the outdoor entrance to Rowena's study and twisted the window bars to open the hidden door. "You said, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, that you believed there might be information in Rowena Ravenclaw's study."

"Our information on the original Guardians indicates that it was where they trained the slayers at Hogwarts, I believe there may be some information that-" He broke off repeating the argument he had proudly made the night before when Buffy pulled him back from stepping onto the stairs.

"You need to be careful – the stairs are rigged."

"I read about this." He looked excitedly at the dusty stairs, failing to find anything interesting in them, "The code word is Rowena, correct?" Wesley started up the stairs, carefully stepping on the sixth stone on the first stair and counting under his breath as he continued on.

By the time they reached the top, Buffy was developing a headache from the low background noise. She opened the door and mentally berated herself seeing her stacks of work littering the office. After talking to the Gryffindors she had forgotten to come and clear Rowena's office before they came this morning.

"I'm sorry Sir, I know I shouldn't-"

"Miss Summers, this school was designed by the founder of your house to have hidden rooms and secret passages. Do you not think they were intended to be used?" The Headmaster asked with a slight smile, "I myself favoured a laboratory when I was a student. I never did get around to asking Mr. Lupin if he and his compatriots ever found it. Skilled as they were, I'm not sure if that band were adept enough at potions to solve the riddles…" He paused mid ramble, eyes focusing suddenly on something over her shoulder "Don't!"

Buffy turned to find that Wesley had tripped the switch, allowing the portrait door to swing open. Immediately she leapt to his side, not knowing if he had used the knock to prevent Camilla attacking, unsure if he knew there was something he was meant to do.

"What's…" the statue's easy tone told Buffy to relax, that the alarm hadn't been sounded, but as Camilla came out into the room she stiffened, "You again!" She lunged at Dumbledore who had already begun to retreat, but was caught by Buffy before she could attack the Headmaster.

"No!"

"But he-" the statue protested, but was interrupted by the very man she was trying to attack.

"When I was young and foolish I opened your door without realising that there was more to circumventing the wards than tripping the lock. I assure you, I pose no danger to what you protect."

Camilla studied him for a moment, judging the sincerity of his words before turning to Buffy for confirmation, "Is this your Guardian?"

"No, he is the Headmaster and this man is a Watcher," Buffy added, indicating Wesley who seemed to have been shocked into silence by the result of his actions, "But he is not mine."

"You would have me allow them to pass?" she asked Buffy, who enjoyed for a moment the thought of a young Dumbledore fleeing from the stone slayer before nodding in response.

The statue led them down the corridor to the domed room where, on seeing the banks of bookcases surrounding the central training space into which Wesley immediately disappeared.

Dumbledore looked around, taking in every aspect of the space with his sharp eyes and then turned to Buffy, "You knew about this place?" he asked in a voice laced with disappointment and confusion, "Why didn't you-"

"It has nothing to do with Riddle or finding Faith." Buffy defended her silence, "and…"

"And you didn't know if you could trust us with it." Dumbledore said and Buffy looked at him sharply, searching for that flutter of his mind on hers but finding nothing. Since her outburst on Monday he had been careful to control his leglimency around her, which meant that this he had discerned without use of that power, merely using his breadth of understanding of people.

"No." Buffy agreed. Refusing to apologise for this, for the distrust that he had played a part in nurturing. The Headmaster nodded in understanding, a new resolve in his eyes to change her opinion, prove her wrong. A part of Buffy hoped that he was successful.

"Did you dream of her last night?"

Buffy shook her head, despite Harry's information that Faith was alive Buffy couldn't help but feel worried about the lack of dreams. It was disconcerting after all these weeks to not know what the other slayer was going through at the hands of her oppressors, what she was being forced to do now that they had control of her.

"Unfortunately Severus cannot return to investigate this change until he is called, it would raise too many questions…"

"I asked Harry."

Dumbledore's eyes snapped to hers, annoyance flitting across his features, "You shouldn't encourage him, his connection to Riddle is dangerous."

"I didn't encourage him." Buffy protested, "I just wanted to know what happened."

"And?" he asked, unable to hide his interest.

"He gave her a knife and suddenly she was under his control." Buffy watched the man, hoping to see some hint of recognition, understanding, "They thought it might be some kind of possession."

"He's made another one? Interesting…"

"Another what? Ron mentioned something about a diary… but they weren't sure how it controlled people."

"I never saw the artifact, but from the children's description it was a lot like the paintings; containing a shade of Riddle as he was at school. The paintings are warded in ways that do more than just protect the canvas, they trap the shade within, prevent it from reaching out and influencing others but the diary was not constrained in such a way."

"But how could a knife hold memories?"

"Any item that you use picks up traces of your character, much like a wizarding photograph traps a snapshot of your personality at that moment. It is true that without intent to make them so these traces would never be enough to create a shade, but with intent any item can hold one." He held out his hand to Buffy, showing her a thick golden ring with a blood red stone, "This ring contains my shade. As Headmaster of this school I am expected to have my portrait added to those in my office and so I was given an item to imbue with my opinions and thoughts. On my death it will be moved into a painting."

"So Riddle could have done the same to this knife?"

"Yes." Dumbledore paused thoughtfully "He must somehow be using Faith's life force to give strength to the shade, allowing it to overcome her."

"Harry said they cut her hand before giving Faith the knife."

The Headmaster nodded, "Using her blood to catalyse the effect, Tom always was clever."

Before Dumbledore could say any more Wesley reappeared from the bookshelves with a pile of worn leather bound volumes, "I should probably get back, that woman seems determined to monopolize my time." He glanced at his watch, "She will notice if I'm missing for too long."

Dumbledore smiled, "Professor Umbridge does seem to have a strong interest in what you are doing."

"I don't think she knows what to do with me. By reviewing the school's policy on Muggleborns I'm helping her attempts to raise questions about the administration, but she doesn't seem sure that it isn't a slight to her that I was sent." He laughed, "Not to mention her hereditary distrust for muggleborns and the awkward fact that I'm registered as a Squib."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Buffy asked.

Wesley shuffled the books in his arms, trying to balance the weight, "There wasn't any information on other ways of locating slayers, hopefully further research may find something or some clues as to why she was taken."

"Do not waste your time on ways to find her." The Headmaster warned, "Blood magic failed and there is no better way of circumventing wards."

"You… you used blood magic?" He asked Dumbledore before turning to Buffy with an aghast expression, "You gave him your blood?"

Buffy opened her mouth to protest that she hadn't done so thoughtlessly but Dumbledore spoke first, "Yes, as the head of your Council well knows."

"B-But… we can't allow…"

"I will return the scrying top to you so that it may be stored in the Council buildings. I have no intention to use it any other way."

"Good." Wesley stated, shaking his head and muttering as he made his way out of the room, "Watchers die to make sure no one can use a slayer's body against them and what does she do…" His words became inaudible as he reached the stairwell.

* * *

Preparations for the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match interrupted regular D.A. meetings and allowed Harry time to mull over the conversation with Buffy which, he decided, didn't go his way. Forgetting his thoughtlessly hurtful words, that feeling which had so strongly told her to trust her, instead he could only think of all the things he still didn't know about the girl, her trips to the forest, the meeting with Lupin, why she had come to the school. He glared at her from across the room as she stood quietly amidst the group of chattering Ravenclaws, daring her to retreat from the safety of her friends.

The door crashed open and the remaining members of D.A. arrived, Ron and Ginny making their way into the room with a lack of energy that was rare in either of the redheads, although not entirely unexpected considering the reason for their delay. The Gryffindor Quidditch team debriefing can't have been fun for either of them following the team's abysmal performance the day before. Ginny having to face whispers that Harry would have caught the Snitch earlier while Ron relived his failures.

Others had been teasing his friend, so perhaps he should have expected it, but Harry hadn't anticipated the hummed refrain of 'Weasley is our King' to float across the room. Who would be taunting his friend like that, Harry wondered before his eyes hit on the musician and all surprise left. Zach, of course, who else would think to bring up the match?

Ron lunged at the boy, and would have gone for his wand if Ginny hadn't used the reflexes that had gotten her the position of Seeker to hold him back.

"Nice tune Zach. Did you have a sing along with Umbridge and the snakes after the match?"

The Hufflepuff's gleeful expression left at the reminder of their most visible supporter. The High Inquisitor had arrived at the match decked out in a resplendent yellow outfit complete with pink accents and had been all too audible in her support of her old house, apparently oblivious to the fact that the Hufflepuff students and their current head of house were purposefully avoiding her attentions.

"She's not one of-"

"Let's not start any house rivalries here." Hermione interrupted before Zach could complete his response, his cheeks pale with annoyance, "Don't forget the Sorting Hat's song. We need to all work together if we want to defeat You-Know-Who."

"Like this will do us any good against…" Zach voiced his standard complaint about the classes, but everyone had heard that before and luckily Ginny and Hermione seemed to be calming Ron.

"I… um…" Buffy turned to find that with everyone's attention on the argument Neville managed to sidle over to the group of Ravenclaws, "Buffy…" he started, lightly pulling her away from the group, "I just… Anthony and I wanted to…" He gestured silently to the Ravenclaw boy who had pulled away from the group of their peers with her.

"Buffy, we just wanted to tell you that we've noticed what you're doing and we wont let you." Anthony spoke up with an open smile to try and take away the impact of his words.

"I-" Buffy tried to start but was quieted by Neville.

"I know you might not want to talk about it but-"

"But you can't keep pulling away from everyone." Anthony finished, his understanding gaze confirming that he was all too aware of what she had been doing since returning to Hogwarts, "And you really need to take care of yourself."

Padma spoke before Buffy could form a response, an excuse, and she looked around to find that others had noticed their discussion, "You'll make yourself sick if you don't eat."

"She already looks it." Lavender muttered, standing to one side with Padma's twin, her eyes sweeping jealously up Buffy's slim figure. Parvati lightly hit her friend's arm to admonish her for making the comment but her expression held less of the concern that filled her sister's eyes, the reaction more for her than for Buffy.

She looked around to find more eyes upon them, a green gaze fixed for once on her with only interest, not a hint of accusation or the guilt that had clouded the latter part of their interaction the week before.

Now that he was finally paying attention he could see the affect that her mother's death combined with the inability to save Faith had wrought on her. How had he ever considered that it had been a lie? Her grief was written in every painfully lethargic movement. The only time she had been vibrant, alive, was when she was demanding, hoping for something, anything to help her fellow Slayer.

"So…" Neville started, even more unsure of himself with the attention they were now receiving, "We just wanted you to know that we're all here for you, we're your friends."

She should have expected this, how else would such a kind boy react, and yet it came as a surprise that the kids Buffy had so reluctantly interacted with would embrace her as one of their own.

"Well said Neville." Harry loudly stated, drawing the rest of the room's attention to the discussion, "As Hermione said earlier, we need to remember that this isn't about Houses, that the most important thing is to help each other, to trust one another." Seeing Buffy's discomfort he grinned and broke the heavy atmosphere, "But right now we need to practice attacking one another."

As the group broke up, falling into place, Harry grabbed her arm, "Let them help." He could see what she was about to do, pull back further away from the people who would be her friends. Doing just as he had been, wallowing in the guilt of seeing another's pain, the inability to do anything about it, pulling back from those who could never really understand. She wouldn't tell them, he knew that, but from outside he could see what this did to your friends, what it had been doing to Ron and Hermione, "They need it as much as you."


	59. Banned Press

**_A/N:- _**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed! In response to Sharai - Thank you so much for your kind words, I hope you continue to enjoy reading. __Here's more!_

_**Banned Press**_

As a slayer she had never needed as much sleep as most people, but what little she had been getting over the past month could barely be classified as rest. It was surreal after all this time to now sleep soundly through the night, no longer having to catch fleeting moments of peace between tortured dreams. To awaken as the sky began to lighten with limbs refreshed and ready for the day ahead not heavy with another's remembered pain. Without the memory of new torture clouding her thoughts.

She should have been thrilled by this change, at the return of her vitality. Instead she was left with nothing to think about but her regrets, everything she had lost. Beyond not knowing if Faith was okay, she missed the dreams, missed the distraction they provided, the agony her body underwent forcing her to think of something other than the gaping hole in her heart.

Even without the nightly visions of her torment, thoughts of the other slayer still managed to haunt her. Every thought of her mother leading to the other slayer, memories of torture reminding Buffy what had happened at Faith's capture, a never ending cycle of grief and guilt from which Buffy couldn't completely escape.

She crept down to the common room where she wouldn't disturb her dorm mates and pulled a worn letter from her pocket. Her eyes caressed Willow's flowing words, skimmed over Xander's untidy scrawl. They didn't know much, couldn't be told about the real reason she couldn't come home, about magic. But they knew her well enough to comfort with their words as they told her everything and nothing. Buffy reread the lines that had helped her through the last dreamless week, certain that she wouldn't have coped without the comfort Wesley had delivered. Looking at the already over read pages, she couldn't help but let her thought wander to the new friends who were so keen to help where her old ones couldn't. Who weren't restricted to words on a page.

As the light filtering in through the windows of the common room brightened, students began to filter slowly down the stairs to the common room. Friendship groups that were divided each night into male and female dormitories reformed once more before the crackling flames of the warm fires, straightening their clothes as they readied themselves for the day ahead.

Buffy felt a surge of fear as Anthony broke away from a group of fifth years to join her, worry that following his words the previous night he would push too hard, break the fine threads that were holding her together.

"Coming down to breakfast?"

She let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding at the tone of his voice, not forceful just inviting, and lifted the letters in response "Let me just finish these and I'll join you down there."

Anthony couldn't hide the disappointment and suspicion that clouded his expression, not able to trust that she was being as forthcoming as she appeared, that Buffy actually intended to come. His features settled into a frown but before he could voice his concerns, Padma sidled up beside him.

"We'll hold you to that." She teased, nudging Anthony, "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, don't forget."

Buffy grinned, responding without thought, "Yes Mom."

As soon as the words left her mouth she faltered, reaching for something else to avoid the topic she had inadvertently raised, prevent their laughing eyes dimming with concern. She could do this; let them help, be her friends, as long as she didn't have to talk, think about what had caused the breach in their relationship.

* * *

For once Buffy was spared from Umbridge's boggle eyed stare as she entered the D.A.D.A. classroom. Despite the teacher's absence, the students were seated silently at their desks as they awaited her arrival, wary of her reaction should she enter to find them chatting.

"Hey" Buffy whispered under her breath as she slid in next to Anthony, opening her bag to pull out her book, quill and parchment. The only items they had ever required for these lessons.

His eyes snapped to the girl in front of them when she turned at the sound, warily taking in her glare as Lisa's eyes flicked to the prefect's badge attached to his chest with a jealous sneer adorning her features. Anthony smiled in what he hoped was an engaging manner to the girl and opened Buffy's book for her, reminding his friend with a nudge that it wasn't just the High Inquisitor that they had to be wary of.

They had always been there it seemed, those students predominantly with parents, who were a part of or supported the ministry who agreed with Umbridge's assessment of their Headmaster and sought to aid her endeavors to take control of the school. Those who had been spotted coming out of the woman's office with a cheery disposition, only for another student to suffer from their tales. Buffy had no doubt that Umbridge would soon be hearing an inflated tale of her and Anthony conversing in the class from the girl, who had never attempted to hide that she disagreed with the choice of prefects made by Flitwick.

The class snapped to attention as the door flew open, the High Inquisitor storming into the room with a thunderous expression and flinging a roll of paper onto her desk.

Anthony gasped, drawing Buffy's attention as he murrmered "He really did it." Under his breath.

She gently elbowed the boy, asking with a raised eyebrow for Anthony to explain what he meant by his whispered words, but their movements had caught Umbridge's attention and he could only shake his head and mouth 'later' before returning to his work.

"So?" Buffy prompted as the pair finally filed out of what had been the strangest D.A.D.A. lesson yet.

Umbridge had unfurled the paper on her desk and spent the period intently reading it, her nose flaring with occasional huffs of angry breath and her frown deepening the more she read. The woman was so energized that she failed to notice that the class were far more interested in her than what they were meant to be reading.

"So what?" Anthony asked with a grin, relishing the interest Buffy was showing after so many despondent responses over the previous weeks.

"What was that about?" Buffy clarified unnecessarily, certain that he knew what she was asking.

"Well…" he trailed off as his eyes caught a notice attached to the wall and pulled her over to see, "I think it was about this."

'BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS' Buffy read the now familiar opening to the educational decree '_Any __student __found __in __possession __of __the __magazine _The Quibbler _will __be __expelled__'_ That explained what Umbridge had been reading but not why, what about this paper had caused the High Inquisitor to get progressively more annoyed as she read, or for that matter, ban any student from doing the same.

Anthony laughed at the glare she sent him, too pleased that he was getting a reaction, any reaction, to care that his friend was annoyed, "Harry gave an interview." He finally relented, giving into Buffy's silent demand that he reveal what he knew, "Neville told me that he talked all about what happened at the Triwizard Tournament."

_What happened at the Triwizard Tournament._

It had been impossible to not know what those words meant once other students had joined her at the school after the summer. Even with the long break, those events had still been at the forefront of so many people's mind, of the appearance of Harry clutching a corpse, of Dumbledore's claim that the wizarding world's worst nightmare had returned.

News of Harry's outburst stating the need for useful D.A.D.A. lessons in light of the dark wizards return had done nothing to quell this, flooding the school with discussions of his claims along with Umbridge's reaction to his statement. But even with her loyalty the ministry's message, this reaction by the High Inquisitor seemed extreme, and rather ill considered.

Unsurprisingly to any who had interacted with teenagers enough to understand their likely reactions, the ban had exactly the opposite affect to what Umbridge was trying to achieve. By the end of the day it seemed as if everyone had read the article, with many like Buffy discovering in that reading a newfound admiration for the boy whose story it told.

Buffy could relate all too well to what it felt like to be controlled, manipulated into giving up her blood so that an evil could be released upon the world. She could remember the dread that she had felt as her blood was taken by The Master, somehow restrained from resisting. At an even younger age, Harry had borne witness to a similar horror, somehow escaping with his life.

More than anything she recalled the anger that had overtaken her afterwards, tainting everything in her life until she had managed to let it out with the smash of a sledgehammer and the bones of her enemy ground to dust.

"Hi!"

Buffy looked up from the article she had been blankly staring at to find that Anthony had joined her in the corner of the common room his expression concerned by the lost look that had reentered her eyes. She forced her thoughts away from blood and death and smiled at the boy, aware of what he was trying to do.

"Would you like…" she offered the magazine to him but trailed off as he shook his head.

"I've read it."

She nodded and they fell silent, there was no need to ask about his opinion of the article, Anthony had always been outspoken about his belief in Harry and Dumbledore, proved by his participation in D.A. Padma soon joined the pair, complaining about their Herbology homework and thereby prompting an evening spent on various assignments for their classes.

Later that evening on her way to the stairs to the dormitory, Buffy returned the copy of _The __Quibbler_ to a bemused Luna Lovegood, who seemed unable to comprehend her sudden fame and the enthusiasm in which her peers were discussing what was, in the girl's opinion, one of the least interesting articles that her father had published.

* * *

Umbridge entered the great hall to a flurry of papers and muttered words, students concealing the forbidden article in any way possible. And with magic at their disposal the possibilities were more than numerous enough to keep a bureaucrat at bay. Her lips pursed, all to aware what was being hidden. Knowing that, like the evening before, she wouldn't find any copies of the article, or help from the faculty in countering the student's charms.

Charms that school children had no place knowing.

A slow calculating smile overtook her face as she spotted the man beside her usual seat at the top table. Wesley, enjoying a final meal at the school before returning to London to submit a report to the Department of Muggleborns and Squibs, returned the disconcerting expression with a tight grin and greeted the woman who had monopolized so much of his time at Hogwarts.

She took her seat, eyes inevitably drawn to the mess of owls, students and parchment once again marking the guilty party. This time the sight didn't elicit the glares that she had been giving him the previous day, instead Umbridge looked upon Harry Potter with an expression of malicious joy. A look recognizable to any who had been present at the firing of Trelawney, at least until Dumbledore had upset her plans by presenting his new employee.

Harry felt her attention upon him, his own smug grin quickly fading from his face at the disconcerting sight of it being mirrored back at him. The High Inquisitor's smile somehow widened as he glanced worriedly at the far end of the top table where Hagrid was digging into his breakfast, oblivious to the scrutiny.

Along the table the senior staff eyed the woman warily, confused by the contrast of her cheery disposition in comparison to the anger and annoyance of the day before. They had become attuned to the woman's moods over the school year, never able to forget the power this woman had been granted. They might be safe, had taught too many of the student's parents to be removed without public outcry but that didn't stop Umbridge's changes to the school from influencing them.

It had long become clear that what made the Defense teacher happy was unlikely to be positive for anyone else residing in the school.

* * *

She stopped. Where was she? How had she got here?

This wasn't the dungeon that Faith had grown depressingly used to. The late afternoon sun hit her face and she leant into it, enjoying its long forgotten caress. Instead she was in a town, by the sea if the tang of salt on the air and sound of gull's cries were anything to go by.

The last thing she could remember… the knife! She glanced down to her side where she could feel it, this thing that had somehow made everything go black, and was unsurprised to find it sheathed on her hip, hidden beneath the trench coat she wore.

That had somehow been responsible for the space in her memories, for her coming to this place. Wherever it was.

The road wasn't busy, a short strip of shops along a narrow street, pedestrians wandering across without much care. A man yelled across the road to his friend in another language, French, she belatedly realised before he moved, revealing a girl that seemed vaguely familiar.

_Get her_

The words hissed through her mind and one foot started forward then stopped, what was she doing, why would she want to harm the girl. Why did she know her. In a flash of memory she saw a photograph, of a beautiful girl, the girl, slim with defined features and flowing white-blonde hair. Faith remembered an order whispered in that same voice that echoed in her head, to find the girl, to get her and then…

Memories of things she had never seen, never heard came to her, fragmented but somehow her own.

_You cannot resist_

Her hand moved and before she could stop them fingers alit upon the hilt of the knife, caressing the jewel.

_You are mine_

Those words were the last thing Faith heard before world went dark, lost in the deepest corners of her mind while someone, something else continued forward to complete the task.

* * *

Buffy was in Rowena's study staring blankly at her Potions textbook and then suddenly she was somewhere else, transported to a French town where the other Slayer had for a fleeting moment been herself again.

The force of the renewal of their connection, of Faith's personality returning hit into Buffy like an oncoming train, carrying her away with it. Not caring that this time Buffy hadn't been dreaming, a state where her mind was more open and so, according to Dumbledore, susceptible to other's thoughts. She had been awake and aware and yet the return of that connection to Faith had instantly overwhelmed her.

She felt for that link, for that reassuring sense of the other slayer that had been missing for the last week but once again found that aspect of herself empty, a void as barren as the place Buffy had felt herself begin to retreat into before the door to Faith's experiences slammed shut.

Closed as fingers touched on that knife, the source of the whispers which had resounded through her.

Buffy jerked out of her seat, taking two steps towards the exit before she stopped, the futility of rushing to tell anyone washing over her. She had no idea what the name of the town Faith was in was, and even if others could work out from her description a location on the French seaside, Buffy had no doubt that Faith would be long gone before she could even find someone to tell.

No, it was far more important to prevent any curiosity over her actions than to tell the Headmaster immediately, and so she would wait, find a discrete method of contacting him. Returning to her seat immediately gave her an idea of how to do just that and Buffy quickly completed her potions essay ready for the next period while contemplating ways she could disrupt the lesson and gain a private conversation with Snape. She couldn't help grinning slightly at the annoyance she would cause the man when he found out the reason behind her actions, knowing that Dumbledore would retract any punishments imposed.

In the mean time at least their suspicions had been confirmed; it was definitely the knife that was causing the breach in her connection to Faith, and the whispers of control Buffy had heard had to be a light example of its possession. Unfortunately this confirmation did not offer much comfort. Harry's joking mention of the basilisk had been just that, a joke, and his description of stabbing the book with a poisonous tooth seemed unlikely to work for a knife, since the poison had no effect on metal. Dumbledore had been even less encouraging, cautioning that Tom was undoubtedly aware of the diary's end and would have taken appropriate precautions to make it more difficult to destroy.

Their only hope was to separate Faith from the object containing the shade, that the removal of the physical connection would remove the possession, an idea that seemed to be supported by the physical connection which had restored the knife's control. They would still have to be wary, Hermione had cautioned, reluctantly breaking an unnatural silence to explain details Ginny had confided in her, of the whispers that had haunted the girl even when the diary was gone.

It wasn't a solution, but Buffy had to believe that it would help; that their time spent discussing it wasn't for nothing. Wasn't only a distraction to prevent her from remembering the only thing that really mattered; that none of this was any good if they couldn't find Faith.


	60. An Act Amended

_**An Act Amended**_

Despite the widespread reading of an article she had banned, Umbridge only grew progressively happier in the fortnight that followed Educational Decree #27, setting both staff and students on alert for any indications of her plans. Of course her reaction may have been helped by the current subject of study in D.A.D.A, one which she enjoyed enough to actually attempt to teach herself instead of relying on the pages of her beloved text book; the laws that govern certain dark creatures. She took a disturbing amount of pleasure in explaining the updated restrictions provided in legislation that was too recent to be included in the text.

Her particular focus on the laws that regulated werewolves' lives and the recent changes to those surrounding the employment of these creatures couldn't help but make Buffy think of Remus, of the state of his wardrobe and the wary, hunted way he looked at the world. It hadn't been enough that they could be fired at a moments notice with only their condition as a cause, the woman proudly related how now they were required to reveal themselves immediately to employers, allowing the students to reach the conclusion that this left most werewolves unemployed.

Enthusing on a subject she knew so well, Umbridge bemoaned the liberal members of the Wizengamot who had prevented them from also changing the sections on safety and family. She hinted at the dangers of allowing creatures to regulate their own transformations and have any contact with children all the while mocking the idea that "Any self respecting witch or wizard would want to have any contact with an animal, let alone a child."

Accordingly, she dismissed the necessity of any marriage regulations besides ones permitting annulment and sneered at the idea that any 'experimental breeding' would occur with or without the 1965 amendment, a sentiment shared by the wizarding children, many of whom seemed rather sickened by the idea. It quickly became clear to Buffy that the pure blood ideals that Tom had explained over breakfast one morning during her first stay at _The Leaky Cauldron_ weren't confined to interactions with Muggles and muggleborns, every aspect of their legislation and laws attempted to subdue those who weren't within the favoured few. At least those not born to wizards couldn't be counted as inferior beings.

Perhaps it was these regular reminders of the prejudiced nature of wizarding law, or it may just that there had been that there had been so many educational decrees that Buffy no longer noticed when a new parchment was attached to the notice board in the Ravenclaw Common room. Either way, when Buffy got to breakfast and found a large proportion of the students studying their copies of the Daily Prophet with concern and Professor Umbridge proudly residing over the meal, with a smile that was large even for her, Buffy knew that this was one proclamation she should have paid attention to. That the Defense teacher's slowly rising mood since Wesley had left shouldn't have been explained away by her enjoyment of lessons. It had been a warning that she was about to announce something big.

* * *

It wasn't until lunch time that Buffy was able to find out what she had missed. Having arrived late she had found herself relegated to the first year's end of the table for her rushed breakfast, and the fragments of discussions she caught between lessons weren't enough to make sense of what had happened. It wasn't until she convinced Anthony to stop complaining about the stinkweed he had somehow managed to cover himself in that she finally got an answer.

"You mean you don't know?" He asked through his mouthful, somehow able to ignore his smell better than those seated around him who were picking reluctantly at their food.

"No!"

"Oh…um…" he swallowed, realising her that her exasperation had nothing to do with the mishap in Herbology and yelled down the table, "Michael, you have a _Prophet_ don't you?"

The boy rummaged in his bag and came up with a rumpled paper, which he handed along to Anthony, who folded it back to the front page and thrust the article over Buffy's plate forcing her to read.

HOGWARTS HIGH INQUISITOR ACTS!

_It's been a while since we've heard anything big from Delores Umbridge, this year given the newly created position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor. Earlier this year she got into trouble when a misunderstanding surrounding an Educational Decree caused the Hogwarts Houses to be disbanded, but there's no confusion over the current changes she's implementing – aimed at making the environment at school safe for all._

Buffy glanced up at Anthony, getting slowly more annoyed by the drivel she was reading, "Can't you just-"

His mouth too full to speak around, Anthony gestured with his knife for her to continue, splattering the paper slightly with gravy. Before she could complain, Padma laid a hand on her arm and backed up her fellow prefect, "It really does explain it all well."

With a threatening look at Anthony that he only sniggered at, Buffy continued reading, skimming past the sections praising the Ministry and it's appointed official.

_An addition to the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery is expected to be ratified by the Wizengamot today, restricting the use of underage magic in schools to spells authorized by teachers. Professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will, under the new legislation provide lists of the acceptable spells for each year group and any student found to be violating the new restrictions may be given a warning or called to a hearing depending on the nature of their actions._

Percy Weasley, 19, Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic, spoke to The Daily Prophet exclusively about this new law " This is what Delores Umbridge [Hogwarts High Inquisitor] had meant by Decree #24. There is very little monitoring of what spells students practice at Hogwarts outside lessons, and this is what she had hoped to observe by checking that school clubs were properly sanctioned. Due to a little misunderstanding the decree was repealed, but now we have implemented a law which encompasses all that had been intended to come from that - adequate control of the magic used by underage pupils."

Lucius Malfoy, 41, agreed with Mr Weasley's comments, stating on behalf of the Hogwarts Govenors that the "decree had not intended to impede social interaction, merely ensure that groups do not collect to study magic in a dangerous way. All the governors agreed with the sentiment that some monitoring of students was needed, but saw that it had been taken the wrong way." He went onto explain that a recent inspection by the Department of Muggleborns and Squibs had highlighted the difficulties faced by those joining Hogwarts from outside the wizarding world, "That's what gave Delores this idea to even the playing field and prevent students from endangering themselves and others by attempting spells beyond their current training. While there are school rules that restrict casting within the grounds, these are underused and rarely enforced, allowing students free reign to attempt complex and often dangerous spells outside lessons."

Buffy stopped reading, too shocked at what had come so far to continue and already beginning to calculate what this might mean for her. She wouldn't be able to heal herself of any bruises and D.A. wouldn't be able to… she looked up from the paper in horror.

At her expression, Anthony grunted something that sounded like "I know" through a mouthful.

"Can they really enforce this?" She finally asked Padma when it became evident Anthony wouldn't be able to speak any time soon.

"What do you mean?"

"Can they detect what spells are being cast… who is casting them?"

"Well… no, not really." Padma replied, but didn't return the relieved grin that Buffy gave her, "They wouldn't be able to detect particular spell signatures with all the magic around Hogwarts, but there's nothing to stop Umbridge casting _Prior Incantato _until she finds a spell you weren't allowed to use."

* * *

"We need to decide what we're going to do." Harry stated as the last members of D.A. filtered into their practice room. The papers that morning had, unsurprisingly, announced that the new law had been passed by a strong majority in the Wizengamot and would come into affect immediately.

"Why do we need to do anything?" One of the Weasley twins asked.

"It's not as if she can prove if we cast a spell today or yesterday." His brother agreed.

The tension that had been growing since she read the paper dissipated slightly, could Padma be wrong, was there actually not a way to enforce the new rule.

"It's alright for you guys, you're 17." Anthony complained, scowling at Buffy as well as the twins. She started slightly, not having considered that the law wouldn't even cover her.

"Buffy might be 18 but since she hasn't taken her OWLs she still counts as underage." Padma commented.

"I do?"

"Fred and George barely managed to scrape their way into overage!" Ron joked, ducking the swipe one of his brothers took at him.

"Hey!"

"Take care little brother," the twin who had missed hitting Ron cautioned as his sibling escaped to the other side of the room, "by the end of the summer you'll be cherishing every P counting towards your magical competency."

"It covers all of us" Hermione silenced any retaliation her friend might have made.

"But…" one of the Weasley twins began to complain but was stopped by a glare from the girl.

"Have you read the changes to the Decree, Fred? Not the Prophet article but the actual amendment." Hermione asked pointedly, "No, okay then." She nodded her head forcefully and turned back to the group.

"Um… Hermione" a Gryffindor fourth year warily raised his hand.

"Yes, Colin?"

"How does it affect us all?"

"Has no one else…" She trailed off looking around the room, "No," Hermione grumbled under her breath, "Of course no one else read the thing, why worry about the laws you have to follow."

"Hermione?" Harry tentatively prompted.

"The Act states that not only will underage wizards attempting spells not on the lists be violating the law, but also anyone who encourages, enables, or conceals those that do so, with additional stricter punishments for someone teaching underage wizards spells they shouldn't know."

"So we'd be done for aiding and abetting?" the twin she's called Fred cried, delighted by the idea.

"I guess this is over then…" an intelligible voice in the crowd murmured, full of disappointment.

"Over?" the twins exclaimed together before staring at one another and bursting out laughing.

"There's actually still a lot that we can do within the rules," Hermione began, "we've covered most of the spells but there's a lot of the theory in Slinkhard that's contradicted in other texts and it might be a good idea…"

"No, no, no." George interrupted as the room began to change around them, practice areas turning into workspaces with desks and chairs, the bookshelves against the wall expanding into a sizable library. "You're not going to turn this into a study session."

"We're an Army!" Fred reminded Hermione, extending the final word to make his point. Ron, followed by many of the others, voiced his agreement with his brother's statement. None of them had come here to study, it wasn't really about passing exams; it was about preparing for war.

"Fine!" She exclaimed, finally losing her temper, "What do you propose we do?"

The twins retreated into a whispered conference before turning and, with a quick glance at one another, announcing in tandem, "Share wands."

Their grins widened at Hermione's confusion and George elaborated, "Six of us are 'overage'" he scowled at Ron despite using his term, "and allowed to cast whatever we like. If we take turns we can all still practice."

"It's not like they can tell who cast the spell, just which wand." Fred added.

"Don't be stupid" Zacharias retorted, "We'd be lucky to get your wands to do anything useful, and I doubt anyone is willing to hand over their wand."

"Not to you anyway." Buffy overheard Fred mummer, setting the twins off laughing again.

"Actually," Harry contradicted the Hufflepuff's point, "it might be a good idea. Lots of the books mention that it's useful to practice with other's wands. If yours gets captured or damaged in combat you might need to use whatever wand you can get your hands on."

"We would have to go back to basics" Hermione mused, "Zacharias is right that it's hard to control another's wand, but it is considered a useful skill to have. Using another's wand forces the user to strengthen their own control to counteract-"

"Great! That's decided then." Fred interrupted what had begun to sound like a segue into magical theory, "If no one objects to sharing their wands…" he and George pointedly looked at each of the Gryffindor seventh years until they indicated their agreement, "Well then, let's get on with it."

"Okay, so if there's six wands-" Hermione began only to be stopped once more.

"Seven" Cho corrected, "I turned 17 last week, and Marietta will be 17 in a fortnight which will make eight."

"All right then, seven wands," she ground out, becoming annoyed with all the interruptions, "Lets stick to five groups of six to keep it simple, but the extra wand will be useful. It will be easier if there's a choice of wands as it is best to start at something close to your own… Now," Hermione asked as she rummaged in her bag for a piece of parchment and a quill, "what's your wand made of?"

* * *

Just how the High Inquisitor intended to enforce her law became evident the next morning. The fifth year Ravenclaw students were asked to form a queue as they reached the Charms classroom and one by one Umbridge inspected their wands before allowing them to enter. Buffy sent Padma a grateful look when she took her seat, relieved the girl had told her that despite her age, she would count among the underage wizards.

When the class was all seated, Umbridge turned her sickening smile onto the Charms Master, "What is it you'll be teaching today?"

"We're continuing with Silencing Charms at the moment, but-"

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"Excuse me?" He squeaked.

"I wouldn't want to tell you how to teach your subject," Umbridge simpered, "but there have been questions raised about the potential for some of the spells you teach to be… misused…"

The small man peered up at the woman, "As any duelist knows, there's potential for almost any spell to be used in combat if the caster is imaginative enough."

She visibly flinched at the word 'combat' but managed to rally herself to respond, "Yes… well, I wouldn't say any spell, but certainly a number of those on the lists you've provided-"

"Madam! My syllabi closely follow the guidelines set by the International Confederaton of Wizards, and the spells listed for fifth years does not include any outside the O.W.L. syllabus they set." He glared up at Umbridge, suddenly becoming the world-class duelist he was rumored to be, his eyes flashing in defiance to the woman who challenged his integrity.

"M-my apologies," the Defence teacher stuttered, retreating in the face of Flitwick's statement, "of course you should follow the O.W.L. syllabus…" she paused and plastered a grin back onto her face, "Excuse me Professor."

The class watched her march out of the room with barely contained grins before turning to their teacher, who had once again become the kindly man they were so used to.

"Well, now that's over let's-

_The cold wind propelled the snow towards her. It prevented her from seeing anything more than a foot ahead, got into her coat through any join of her clothing. She should be running but couldn't see anywhere to run to, couldn't run away from the whispers in her head that only grew louder._

The change in reality hit her like all these new glimpses into Faith's psyche, like a battering ram that destroyed every wall she put up, on both the way in and out, leaving her shaken. She heard the wail of wind outside the castle and started at the sound, so familiar to the one in her vision. Buffy stared out at the driving rain glancing off the windows and shook her head, no; Faith had been in the snow, she wasn't here. She was somewhere further north where another bitter wind sent the snow swirling around her.

She must be on a mission, Buffy reflected, hoping for more clues, more fragments to interrupt her thoughts. They came too infrequently while her sister slayer was within the wizards lair, close to the power that fuelled her possession. Not that those infrequent visions of his hideaway helped, that was the one place they couldn't reach her. What Buffy needed was something, anything she could take to Dumbledore to locate Faith outside it, something she hadn't yet been able to do but was unable to give up hope in.

"Miss Summers." Professor Flitwick's voice intruded on her thoughts. He gestured to her loudly squawking raven when she looked up and smiled encouragingly until she picked up her wand.

"_Silencio_"

* * *

Even as their Professors added pressure, increasing their assignments and reminding them of the exams that still seemed so long away, the D.A. became slowly more complacent. Two weeks had passed since the new law had been announced and the High Inquisitor was no closer to destroying their group than she had ever been. They laughingly noted that it was, more often than not, the classes containing D.A. members that happened to be selected by the High Inquisitor for inspection, Harry in particular enjoyed relating the look of fury that took over her face when she was forced once more to let him pass.

It was no doubt this complacency that held them all rigid for a moment when they heard the house elf's fearful words to Harry, no one moving a muscle until their leader spoke, told them to run.

And run they did.

"Split up." Was shouted by someone over the clatter of feet, and they scattered, sprinting away from their pursuers along corridors only to gather and pause at corners, catching their breath for a moment before someone signaled the all clear and they continued, slowly cutting down into smaller groups that might be excused wandering the corridors after dinner. Getting away from the room as fast as they could, trying to think where to hide.

Buffy rounded a corner followed by a couple of Gryffindors and Anthony who had all been making their way with her towards their dormitories and came face to face with Hermione, leading a similar group.

"They're behind me." Buffy whispered just as Hermione warned her to "Go back"

The two girls looked at one another in shock before each tried to calculate anywhere they could escape to.

The Gryffindors, from what Buffy could guess by the directions they generally took to their dormitories, would have to go down two floors and across the castle before climbing back up and from Hermione's fearful glances behind the way to the Ravenclaw dormitories was blocked by those hunting them but that meant…

Buffy looked about to get her bearings and pulled Hermione down a corridor to their left, "This way." She whispered at the group, encouraging them to follow.

"This is a dead end." Hermione hissed, "You don't think they'll check the classrooms?"

"Trust me." She asked, pausing in a sparse section of corridor to rummage through her bag before cursing under her breath, "Does anyone have their Potions knife on them?"

The rest of the students began to search through their belongings, but Hermione was the first to hand a knife to Buffy.

"Is it silver?" Buffy checked

"Of course." She replied slightly affronted that Buffy would imply she used inferior apparatus, but that was nothing compared to her shock when Buffy turned in a fluid movement to stab the painting behind them.

Hermione was frozen in place, whispering something about vandalism of school property when a shout behind them reminded her why they were running and she allowed Buffy to gently push her through the open doorway. Buffy grabbed the girl's knife from the floor and slipped through the closing painting as the chasing Slytherins neared.

Torches burst into light as the door clicked shut behind them and Buffy met just over half a dozen terrified pairs of eyes. She raised her finger to her lips when Hermione opened her mouth, glad that they followed her instruction when, just outside the door they heard the sound of their pursuers.

"Where are they?" that grumbling sound had to come from Crabbe or Goyle.

"Quiet!" a female voice silenced him, "I'm sure they came this way. Check the classrooms at the end of the corridor, we've got them trapped."

Five breathless minutes later they heard the group stomp back past, the female voice loudly blaming the others for their prey's escape.

After waiting for any sound to diminish, Hermione turned to Buffy and asked, "Where are we?"

Buffy shrugged, trying to dispel the uncomfortable feeling at having people she didn't entirely trust so close to her private space, even one person she didn't even vaguely know in the case of Seamus, the Gryffindor who had only recently joined D.A. "It's a secret stairwell." She stated rather unnecessarily.

"Well that was pretty obvious ten minutes ago." Ginny commented, earning herself a glare from Hermione, "Where does it…"

"What about the painting you ruined!" Hermione interrupted her, unable to move on from Buffy's act of vandalism. "And are we allowed to be here?"

"The painting is magical, it'll be fine now."

"Oh… well…" Hermione flushed, realising that she should have known that a painting that opened when it was stabbed would recover from the damage, "Of course… How did you…" This place wasn't on the Marauder's Map, of that she was certain. A hidden stairwell would have been too useful to the boys for them to ignore, but how did this newcomer know more about the school than its most enthusiastic tricksters.

"Isn't it amazing what you discover with months alone to wander the corridors." Buffy commented, seemingly reading Hermione's thoughts.

"It's crazy how well Buffy knows her way around." Anthony agreed, inadvertently rescuing her from further questions by confirming her point, "She took us round in circles evading those snakes! I had no idea that classroom had a second exit…"

Buffy smiled at him, at least Anthony and Padma she could rely on, and even based on nothing more than familial or house loyalty, she felt she should trust Pavarti and Cho. Ginny and Hermione she wasn't so sure of, they had always given off a ghost of the vague distrust she got from Harry, making Buffy wary about trusting them in return despite their recent truce.

Before she could make that leap to trust, to lead them to the one place they would all be safe from discovery, she noticed that a few of the group had stepped down from the crowded landing.

"Don't!" Buffy shouted out just as Ginny took the step down onto the third step down and the stairwell was triggered, taking the decision of where to go away from her as all those on the steps hurtled down to the fifth floor and the torches guttered out.

"_Lumos_" Hermione whispered, lighting the tip of her wand and holding it up to cast a faint glow over the four who remained.

She gave another shrug in response to her questioning gaze and grinned cheekily, "There's some tick steps in the secret stairwell."

"You don't say." Hermione responded sarcastically, a disapproving frown on her face, "I suppose that's a no for being allowed here."

Buffy raised her eyebrow, "The Headmaster told me these places are here for someone to..."

At the mention of Dumbledore the frown cleared, leaving behind curiosity, but a grumbling voice prevented any further questions, "I'm sure I heard something…"

Buffy waved to get the other's attention and pointed to the stone slide that wound down away from their pursuit, at Hermione's nod the Patil twins shrugged in agreement, although Parvati grimaced slightly at the dust before setting off down to reunite with their group.

"It sounds like we've lost them." Seamus commented as the portrait of a vampire slammed shut behind Buffy.

She extended her hearing, trying to pick up any sound of those following them and found that he was right; they had gotten away. The relief that washed over them prompted open grins, but Buffy wasn't surprised that Ginny quickly overcame it, turning to her with a question on her lips.

Her question died before it could be spoken, Hermione rested a hand upon her arm, "We should probably all make our way back to our dormitories."

"But-" Ginny complained, only to be silenced again.

"There's no use waiting around, and we should check on the others."

Hermione's reminder that Harry and her brothers were still unaccounted for quieted her, although the curious look she sent back to the doorway showed Buffy that she wasn't going to forget about this place.

She found herself walking next to Hermione as the group made their way back through the school. "Dumbledore knows about those stairs? That you know?"

"Yes," Buffy confirmed what she had already implied, smiling slightly at Hermione's curiosity, "He seemed to view these places as tests."

"Tests?"

"To see if students could uncover the secret."


	61. A Winter Bloom

**_A Winter Bloom_**

The next morning Buffy skipped down the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room, still floating on the high left over from the events of the previous evening. The excitement of their success in escaping had grown as more D.A. members made it back until all of her friends were there, safe, and they reveled in their achievements.

But that exuberance left her with what she found below.

She had known that things were going to be different after the raid on D.A. that they would have to stop meeting, be careful, but the level of despondence in the other students was unexpected. One of the portraits depicting an eminent Ravenclaw alumni was holding court, surrounded by a crowd that was absorbing every word.

"What happened?" Buffy asked Michael, the first person she recognised on the fringes of the group, unwilling to delve into the centre where she spotted Anthony and Padma.

"Umbridge staged a coup."

"What?" she demanded, but even as she attempted to deny the possibility of it her eyes fell onto one of the many notices posted about the room proclaiming that '_Delores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'_

"They caught Harry and somehow it was twisted so that Dumbledore was the one in trouble, but before they could arrest him he escaped! Right under the noses of two Aurors, Umbridge and Fudge." Michael finished with a satisfied nod, proud of the man their army had been named for.

"He's gone? But…" how will I find Faith now, Buffy couldn't help but wonder before trying to shake off the thought. There were more things at stake here than her access to Dumbledore.

"Yup he's definitely out of here." Anthony agreed, having made his way out of the scrum to meet them.

Michael pointed at the portrait still answering questions for the surrounding students, "Professor Derwent has a painting in the Headmaster's office, she saw it all."

"And she's telling everyone?" Buffy thought of all the things she'd revealed in that office, never thinking to be wary of the portraits who always looked on, with levels of interest varying between snoring and fixed attention.

"Well they don't usually, the portraits of previous Heads are there to give advice to the current one and they're prevented from passing on anything they learn by confidentiality charms. Dumbledore went to St Mungo's where she has another portrait and told her to tell everyone what happened – they can break their silence with the permission of the current Head you see."

"So he's still the Headmaster?"

"On yeah. Whatever the Ministry says that-"

"Anthony!" Michael interrupted, pointing to the nearby corner where Cho Chang was being comforted by a group of girls. One of them, a fifth year, Lisa, had turned to better hear their conversation, but returned her attention to Cho when her eavesdropping was spotted.

"What's Cho upset about?" Buffy asked.

"Marietta's in the hospital wing." Anthony said without any trace of compassion, "She was the one who gave us up."

"She betrayed us? Told the location to-"

Michael grabbed Buffy's arm hard to silence her and pointedly looked back at the corner where Lisa was once again splitting her attention between them and Cho, "The new Headmistress created the Inquisitorial Squad. It's made of all the students who ra-" he stopped himself for a moment, "the students who have shown themselves to support her and the Ministry."

The students who ratted out those going against Umbridge's decrees, Buffy finished his initial sentence in her head as the girl in question got up and came across to the trio, her brand new silver 'I' badge flashing in the candlelight, "The Headmistress would like to speak to you in her office after breakfast." Lisa told Buffy with a sneer, grabbing her as she began to move off, "Not the Headmas- Head's office, she hasn't yet moved from her old one."

As she moved away from them Michael let out the snigger he'd been holding back, "Hasn't moved… can't move more like. I heard the gargoyle wouldn't let her in."

"Dumbledore escaped and she can't get in his office? Great… I'd better get my breakfast quickly before something else happens to annoy her."

When Buffy did reach Umbridge's office, the new Headmistress was proudly placing a block on her desk that announced her promotion in gold letters. "Good morning Miss Summers, please take a seat."

"Good morning Headmistress." Buffy intoned at the pointed look given to her when she didn't immediately respond.

Umbridge preened slightly at the title, shuffling the paperwork on her desk before meeting Buffy's eyes "You are aware, no doubt, that the Minister of Magic imposed targets on your study?"

"Yes."

"Your recent work has shown that you have fallen behind in certain subjects, particularly in D.A.D.A, I will not permit a failure that might reflect badly on my tenure as Professor, High Inquisitor and Headmistress." A frown flickered across her features before the fixed smile returned, "To prevent this we will resume some of your weekly evening study sessions. Dumbledore should never have stopped them if he wanted you to succeed."

"Which ones-"

"Yes, I was just getting to that." She said, glancing down at the notes on her desk, "The lessons you seem to be particularly behind on are Potions, Herbology and, as I mentioned, D.A.D.A. extra classes in these would not go against the Nurse's recommendation that you do not do extra casting. Professor Snape has been holding remedial Potions classes already for an O.W.L. student; speak to him about joining these. I will ask him to also cover the gaps in your D.A.D.A knowledge in these classes, as my new responsibilities will make it impossible for me to spare the time."

Umbridge inspected Buffy to ensure she understood, "Now, about your other classes…"

* * *

The looks that Ginny had been shooting her throughout Potions made Buffy inordinately glad that she had a reason to stay behind after class. In most lessons it wouldn't have been an issue to remain without much cause, asking the Professor a silly question to explain the reluctance to leave. Snape however had a reputation for punishing those who disturbed him without grounds, which worked in Buffy's favour when it seemed as if the Gryffindor would wait with her. A snapped, "Can I help you Miss Weasley?" discouraged any thoughts of lingering and Ginny quickly exited the class.

"Yes, Miss Summers." He prompted while walking about the classroom, flicking his wand to straighten the stools and vanish away spilt potions.

"The Headmistress told me I needed to join the remedial potions class you're holding sir."

"The Headmistress told you that did she?" Snape asked with a sneer in his voice, "Very well then." He turned from her, whipping his robes around as he continued his inspection of the room.

"I'm sorry sir," Buffy spoke quietly, wary of provoking him, "but I don't know when it is."

"After dinner tomorrow." He snapped shortly, "I'll be in my office but there will be work laid out for you."

Not wanting to risk his ire by ignoring yet another dismissal, Buffy exited the classroom and, adjusting the bag on her shoulder, heavy with apparatus and ingredients, began the journey up to the Ravenclaw dormitories so that she could get rid of the now unnecessary burdens.

The dull clatter of a body tumbling onto a wooden floor caught Buffy's attention as she was halfway up a staircase to the sixth floor. Rushing up the stairs in the direction the sound had come from, she followed muffled groans to the injured party, becoming disconcerted as she realised where she was headed.

"Don't worry, I'm fine." Ginny spoke without looking up, sitting on the floor nursing a bruised knee, "Just leave me to collect my stu-" She finally looked up to find Buffy, breaking off mid sentence and colouring, "Oh."

"Hi." Buffy greeted her with fake cheer, holding out her arm to help Ginny up, "Is there any point asking what you're up to?"

"I'm going to figure out the stairwell!"

"And how's that working out for you?" she asked, taking in the girl's rumpled appearance.

"I'm getting there… I've got the first step sorted." Ginny defiantly replied.

"It looks like mostly what you've got are bruises." Buffy commented as the girl took some stiff and from the looks of it painful steps towards the painting.

Ginny stabbed at the wolf with her knife, injuring it and leaving the creature limping around the painting emitting mournful whines. Taking pity on the creature, Buffy came up behind the Gryffindor and stabbed the werewolf in the heart; quickly ending it's pain.

"So are you going to show me the secret?" she asked as she made her way through the opening door.

"What makes you think I know it?" Buffy asked with a smile.

Ginny scowled, "Fine… don't then."

A few minutes later she flew back through the door, landing with a groan, "Not the fifth stone…" she muttered.

"I must say I'm surprised its you here, not Harry and Ron."

"They don't know." Ginny replied, slowly and painfully getting to her feet.

"Oh?"

"I told them Hermione hid in the girls toilet… which she did before we met up." She reasoned defensively. "I let them think I was there too."

"And you think Hermione didn't tell them?"

"I don't know. With everything that's been going on they weren't that interested... and she mentioned something about cheating..." She frowned before shrugging off the confusion, "I just… for once I wanted to be the one to figure the secret out." Ginny finished.

"You do realise it won't be a secret for very long if you keep flying out through the door like that?"

"There aren't many people about up here at lunch time…. I don't think anyone will hear me."

"I did." Buffy commented.

"I suppose… but you already knew." Ginny frowned, "If you're not going to help me you should leave. Your being here will draw more attention."

Buffy hesitated, unsure what to do about this girl's quest to solve the secret that would lead her to Rowena's study, about the risk of it further exposing her own secrets. Not that there was anything she could do, she had given up the privacy of the stairwell when she hid the other D.A. members there. Though it had been an impulsive action, preventing them being caught wasn't something she regretted. Buffy would just have to accept the consequences of her actions.

She caught Ginny's arm as she was about to stab the wolf again, "Don't just stab at it… make sure you'll kill him." She redirected the blade in Ginny's hand towards the werewolf's jugular, "It's not right to just injure it, werewolves aren't just creatures… even if it is a painting."

"Okay… thanks." Ginny flushed; embarrassed by the thought that she had been harming a being until a spark of amusement flashed across her face, "I did better than Seamus at least, he tried to show Dean this morning and didn't even know to hit the wolf."

Buffy hid the wave of panic that washed over her at the thought of even more people knowing, trying to dismiss this as another outcome of having hidden her friends, "At least that lowers your competition."

"Yeah," Ginny grinned, "and it's not something that Parvati's likely to care about... What about Padma and Anthony?"

Buffy shrugged, "I'm not sure how interested they are in the secrets of the school… unless they thought it might help them win an argument."

A whistling sound nearby made both girls jump, Ginny hid her Potions knife behind her back and both waited for someone to come upon them but they didn't hear any footsteps, only the high pitched sound getting louder.

Buffy went to see what was going on, only to be met by a firework, which swerved around her before continuing. "What the-"

The rocket went to the end of the corridor and performed a complicated combination of loops and swirls, trying to find a way to go onwards before giving up and flying back past the girls.

"That looks like one of my brother's designs…" Ginny murmured, looking along the disappearing trail left by the rocket. Smiling at her sibling's revenge upon their new Headmistress, she began to gather her belongings.

"You're giving up?" Buffy asked without much hope.

"On no," Ginny reassured her, "I'll be back. I just don't think it would be sensible to be found in the corridors without a good reason right now." The sound of a muted shriek of annoyance echoing through the school confirmed her words. "Might as well get some lunch before the next class starts."

There were fireworks everywhere by the time Buffy made it back down to the Great Hall with a slightly disheveled Headmistress chasing after them. They still hadn't cleared when dinner was being served, a Catherine Wheel that followed some students into the room forcing the singed Umbridge to wearily leave her prime position at the Head table and deal with the enduring prank.

* * *

She stared at the parchment in her hand, trying yet again to make sense of the ambiguous question. No, unfortunately there was nothing else for it. However little she wanted to disturb Snape, his ire if she didn't complete the assignment he'd set properly would be even worse.

Buffy knocked lightly on his door, surprised to find it slightly ajar, the door falling further open with her light tapping, "Professor Snape?" Her calls were met with no response, so she pushed the door fully open. At first she thought the office was empty, and was about to close the door when she noticed a faint glow coming from the open cupboard door and a figure leaning into it.

"Prof-" she began again before realising that this person was wearing normal school robes, not the heavier ones that Snape favoured, and was far too slight to be a grown man. Buffy spotted a bag resting on the near side of the Potion's professor's desk, a bag she knew, that she had seen sitting at the front of the room they had used for D.A. too many times to not know it's owner.

"Harry?" she called, but his own name garnered no more of a response than Snape's had. Harry's feud with the head of Slytherin was legendary in the school, and Buffy didn't want to get caught in the line of fire, labeled accomplice, especially when the new Headteacher was salivating for anything she could pin on Harry. But then there was the fact that he'd told her as much as he could about Faith, he had let her into D.A. and despite his reservations, taught her the same as everyone else until… until her own housemate betrayed them all.

It shouldn't have been her burden, and yet it somehow was, the shared glories of the house system bringing along with them shared penance.

"Harry…" she tried again, letting the office door fall closed behind her as she moved into the room, going over to the cupboard and grabbing onto his shoulder to yank him back. Instead of getting his attention, the moment Buffy touched Harry's shoulder a strange force pulled her forwards, towards the basin his face was in, closer and closer until she was almost touching the contents.

A liquid cloud swirled before her, backlit by a silver light with flickers of images behind the mist, a group of teenagers- Harry! She lurched the last millimetre forwards to touch the silvery mass and fell through, out onto the grounds of Hogwarts near the lake. The sun poured down warmth that Buffy hadn't felt in months, far brighter than it had been earlier that day. Students were out taking advantage of the weather, reading under a tree or laughing at her, no not at her but through her to…

There was a boy writhing on the ground behind her, coughing up soap bubbles and moving strangely as if, as if he was tied up, or had received the curse that imitates that action. Buffy immediately cast the counter curse to no avail, it didn't change anything and… the boy kicked _through _her leg in his attempts to get free. The pink bubbles had began to dissipate with his struggles, no longer covering a face which was almost recognisable; his features making her wonder if Professor Snape had a son.

A yell caused Buffy to turn back to find two boys with their wands pulled. One of them looked so much like Harry that she almost called out his name before he mussed his hair, drawing attention to the lack of either a scar or glasses. He was arguing with a girl, their voices growing progressively louder.

"What's he done to you?" the girl all but spat at the Harry look alike, facing off against the boy with distaste dripping from her voice.

"Well," the cocky boy rejoined, "it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…"

His comment was met with laughter from everyone but the girl, who turned for a moment towards a tree by the lake, revealing a profile that seemed oddly familiar, eyebrows furrowing for a moment at whatever she'd seen before readying herself to square off against the boy.

Under the tree that the girl had turned to Buffy found another Harry, this one looking far more like the lightly disheveled boy she was used to, his robes less well fitting or proudly warn than the other, and sporting the all important glasses.

"Harry" she yelled, startling him out of his observation of the group while the scene continued uninterrupted.

Harry dragged his gaze from the childhood version of his mother to find Buffy Summers staring straight at him. She moved towards him across the grass, a worried expression on her face.

"Do you know how to get out of here?" she asked without getting a response beyond a shrug as the scene before him repeatedly stole his attention. The tortured boy had shaken off his curse enough to crawl for his wand and seek retribution.

"Harry!" Buffy shook him slightly, "Come on, we can't let Snape find us-" she was distracted by yells of curses and cheers, a quick and lopsided duel ending in the boy who had been on the ground hanging upside down, flashing his underwear to the gathered crowd to the seemingly infinite enjoyment of the boys below and their vocal admirers.

Buffy frowned at their actions, looking about hopefully for a teacher to break up the fray, but it seemed that only one person here was willing or had any desire to stand up to these bullies. Following the girl's demands, the Harry lookalike flicked his wand to send their victim tumbling to the ground, but his friend bound the boy before he could retaliate. At this her temper finally snapped, giving up on words that were only shrugged off, no matter how scathing, she took a step back and drew her own wand.

"Leave him alone!" she shouted, standing ready to curse the boy at his next move.

Her resolve made the boy hesitate, perhaps because of his less than subtle attempts to gain her affection, but Buffy couldn't help but think that it was the slightly foreboding figure the girl struck despite her stature. Anger made her eyes flash and gave her hair a life of its own, flicking around her face, hard emeralds amidst a sea of flame.

The girl's face, no longer blocked from view by the boys, was known to Buffy, but still she couldn't place where from, unable to work out what it was about the face behind the striking hair and eyes that she recognised.

"Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you."

"Evans?" Buffy exclaimed staring at the girl more intently, all worries about Snape forgotten.


	62. The Gift of Ancestors

**_The Gift of Ancestors_**

Harry looked at her sharply, finally distracted from observing the scene by her tone as much as due to what she had said, "What's my mum to you?"

Still disconcerted by what she had heard, Buffy dumbly repeated, "Mum?" before seeing the likeness between Harry and the girl yelling at his lookalike; two identical sets of eyes flashing with accusation, the ones hidden behind crooked glasses directed at her and the other towards... She turned around, following the girl's line of sight to look again at the boy who, with the resemblance, could only be Harry's father, James Potter.

Initially she hadn't stopped to wonder what touching the basin had done, too intent on finding Harry and escaping before they could be caught. Now that she had made that connection, realised that this was a memory of long past events it all clicked into place; the boy they'd been attacking was Snape himself as a teenager. If this was his childhood, no wonder Snape hated Harry so much, the bitter man unable to resist belittling the boy with the face of his former tormentor.

Buffy wanted to deny what she had discovered, that the girl who would become Lily Potter was once Evans, wanted to believe that anything else could be true. Because that would mean that this merciless boy who seemed to take such delight in hurting and humiliating Snape, this bully was her father as well as Harry's. She assessed him with disgust, trying to see anything good in his actions, but there didn't seem to be any escaping it, she couldn't wish away the knowledge of this cruel child. If this was her father, they had probably done her a favour giving her up.

Like the character in a play desperate to prove her point, Lily finished a final lengthy tirade with a glance towards Harry and Buffy, giving them both a clear view of her face, forcing Buffy to admit what it was about her that was so familiar. The line of her jaw, the shape of her mouth, when presented with a face that had so many similarities to her own she couldn't deny her parentage.

After giving them that last look at the features echoed in her children, she stormed back towards the castle with James shouting her surname after her. His interest in Buffy forgotten, Harry didn't seem able to take his eyes off the disappointed figure of his father who rallied his spirits by returning to his favourite pastime; watching the boy's actions with fascinated horror, but Buffy couldn't help thinking about Lily's face as she looked at them, filled with disappointment.

No, she had to remember; they were just observing this scene. Lily Evans hadn't been looking at them but at… she span around to find another boy about the same age as the others reading a book under the tree. The image he was presenting of one too engrossed in words to notice his surroundings was ruined when Snape inadvertently let out a yelp as he was hoisted from the ground. The boy looked up for a second with a grimace before pointedly returning to his book, ignoring the other boy's plight.

That face too sparked her memories, but before she could place him she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder and remembered the reason she had come in the first place – Snape.

"Having Fun?"

She looked up to see the Potions Master's angry face staring down at Harry, gripping his arm so tight that his knuckles turned a boney white. The sun's warmth disappeared and Buffy felt strangely lightheaded, a similar feeling to the airiness that overcomes you before fainting but instead of falling she seemed to be flying, moving back away from the memory.

Snape released Buffy the moment they returned to his office, rounding on Harry and spitting his hatred in his face, "So... been enjoying yourself, Potter?"

Harry was shaken, not only by the grip the man had on him, but also by what he had just seen, unable to reconcile his father's actions with what he had believed of him. "N-no" he replied, trying without success to escape Snape's grip.

Buffy pulled lightly on the Potions master's arm, trying to make him release Harry without it hurting the boy more, "Get off him"

"Amusing man, your father, wasn't he?" Snape asked, seemingly unaware of Buffy's presence, his full focus on Harry to the exclusion of anything else. Even the rattling of the jars around him was ignored as he addressed the boy.

"I… didn't…" Harry stammered, still trying to get away from the irate professor.

"About as amusing as you are now." Buffy snapped a response, pulling the boy out of Snape's grasp in the moments hesitation her comment caused, "If you hate him, what does that make you?"

"Me?" he asked, looming over the pair of students cowering against his office wall, baring his teeth in a bitter grin, "I am the sum of all the choices I have made, of everything I have experienced."

Buffy wished she'd never spoken, the man's anger had transferred to her for protecting Harry and confronting him.

"And you Summers, I don't know what you thought you were doing in my office."

She cringed back from the strength of his rage. Buffy backed up as far as she could away from the magic she could feel flowing angrily off him, only stopping when she felt the doorknob press into her back. She may have the strength to resist him physically, but repelling the raw power that crackled around him was another matter, threatening to destroy his office, and there was no way to tell how he would respond to violence in this mood.

"You will not tell anyone what you saw." It wasn't a question but a statement; his flashing eyes giving them a warning of what would happen if they disobeyed him.

"No… No, of course I wo…"

"No, sir…we…"

Buffy and Harry stuttered. Neither of them wanted to talk about the boys that had treated Snape with such contempt, not to each other, and certainly not to anybody else.

"Get out, get out, I don't want to see either of you in this office ever again"

Buffy wrenched open the door and sprinted along the corridor, hearing the sounds of broken glass as Snape's anger finally overflowed. She only stopped when she heard the chatter of the students still lingering in the Great Hall after dinner, unwilling to face the crowd. Harry eventually caught up with her, huffing as he attempted to catch his breath.

"What was that?" Buffy wondered out loud and Harry replied without thinking

"A pensieve… you can put your memories into it…" He stopped, looking at Buffy and seeing something that pulled at his memories, something he had overlooked in the pensieve but was unable to pinpoint, "Who are you?"

"Buffy Summers. Slayer, Ravenclaw and member of Dumbledore's Army… though not any more I guess… pleased to meet you." She held out her hand for Harry to shake, but he wasn't in the mood for her flippancy, allowing his anger at Snape's treatment to be redirected onto her.

His intense gaze searched her face, couldn't ignore her actions in the memory, her sudden interest in his mother's name. The way Buffy had fixated on Lily from that moment until she left, staring after her with a hunger he had mirrored. He tried to dismiss what he was seeing but he couldn't, not here away from the bright sunlight that had highlighted the differences between them, making Buffy's hair shine golden where his mother's burned a deep red.

Not when confronted by the the likeness disguised by those differences.

It was there in the delicate cheekbones emerging from teenage cheeks, in her expressions. What she had said in the pensive kept on nagging at his thoughts, the fascination with which she had repeated his mother's name. As his train of thought continued its inevitable journey, other pieces, fragments began to fall into place. He remembered the sensation of her power flowing through him as their fingers touched over his wand, their energy interacting with one another, so similar and yet...

Harry had felt the other power, the darkness within the magic and focussed on it, on what he had thought was a link to Voldemort, blamed the connection he felt to her on that. But he knew now what that power inside her was, knew about the slayer, leaving their magical link unaccounted for.

In a move that unconsciously mirrored Snape's earlier actions towards him, Harry viciously grabbed her arm and repeated the question he had asked originally with a growl, "What does my mother mean to you?"

Barring the confrontation about Faith, Buffy had rarely seen anything but the side of Harry that he had shown during the D.A. sessions, light-hearted but strict – the perfect teacher as he wandered around in his element perfecting wand techniques and pronunciation of spells. He may never have worked to hide his suspicion of her, but it hadn't impacted strongly on their interactions, merely ensuring they were as minimal as possible.

Now he had let his rage come forth, and for anyone but a slayer, it would have been terrifying. The air around him vibrated with magic, charged by his emotions. And that magic sang through her like it was her own.

She looked into his eyes, eyes just like the ones she had seen earlier staring out of a face that was so similar to hers, and couldn't question their kinship.

Pulling away from his grip, Buffy moved to the opposite side of the corridor and leant back wearily against the wall, the question more than the violence taking the life and the fight out of her. Looking at Harry she saw that he didn't really need her to tell him. He already knew what the name had meant to her and was gazing desperately back at her, begging her to… do what, she wasn't sure even he knew. Wanting her to both confirm that she was his family and deny that something so big could have happened without him knowing about it.

Buffy had no doubt that he already knew she was adopted. Hermione would have thoroughly investigated the rumours of her past after she was introduced into the DA, if not before. She carefully answered his silent plea, "Evans is the name I was given at birth, Anne Silvia Evans."

Anger and longing flashed over his expressive face, until his features finally settled into a confused frown. "But... they wouldn't..." Harry stumbled through a sentence, trying to reach a point where he believed what she implied, "You don't know who your parents are?"

"Now I have a good idea." Buffy commented, resigned to trusting in what she had seen.

"I can't believe that no one told me, that Sir-" he trailed off his progressively more heated comment with a blush, realising that he was about to say more than he should. Harry stared at her for another long moment, unable to see any of his aunt in Buffy, no longer able to see anything but the resemblances to his mother. He didn't know what else to think, but couldn't quite accept it.

"Why would they have given you up?" He mused out loud, his enduring love and admiration for both his parents evident in his tone but starting to flounder by the time he finished. He still hadn't processed what he had seen, to add this new knowledge to the picture of them he held in his mind. He was unable to do anything but believe that there would have to be a good reason for his parents to discard a child, couldn't think anything less of someone Hagrid had admired, that Sirius and Lupin had been friends with.

He had a sister. That truth reflected so badly on the few people he loved, had learnt to trust that he couldn't feel anything but hollow about the discovery, preventing him from fully trusting what he was being told, what he had seen. How could he be happy to find her when he was struggling to hold onto belief in those he cared for.

Buffy felt her own anger rise against everything that had happened that night. He may not have been well treated and loved, but it was impossible to know that you were abandoned without feeling some sting of rejection resound through everything you did. Hearing Harry's love for them and knowing that, if what they both believed was true, the same people who had abandoned her had died protecting their other child hurt her more than she cared to admit.

"My parents left me because they didn't care enough to overcome whatever obstacles they thought were there… stopping them from keeping me. And after seeing the high school version of your father I'm not sure it's a bad thing."

The words came straight from the long repressed hatred Buffy felt towards her parents and were aimed to hurt the son they had kept, they had loved, but she hadn't expected him to back away from her, from her words and what they meant with such a look of horror and revulsion on his face.

He hadn't had time to think about the boy he'd seen in the pensive, his subconscious preventing him from reflecting on something that so viciously shook the foundations of his belief in his father. Those memories hit him with Buffy's words, bringing to the forefront of his mind everything he'd witnessed his father doing. Now there seemed to be another fault to lay at not just his, but also his mother's door – the abandonment of their other child. He lent weakly against the wall, unable to process how much this changed.

He had a sister.

Was anyone who he thought they were?

Harry sank to the floor as Buffy stepped back from him, running away so she didn't have to face her brother.

* * *

Buffy was too angry to sleep, angry at the revelation that had been forced upon her, to have the question she'd carefully avoided asking so abruptly answered. It had been a long time since she had any desire to know who it was that had given her up, since she had tried to hunt them down. Then at least she had been prepared for the news, for the disappointment, for what she discovered to hurt.

Because despite everything it did hurt, and she couldn't help feeling guilty for that. She shouldn't care, she should have been able to replace the pain of being rejected with the love of the parents she'd gained, but it wasn't that simple. The guilt she still harbored over her mother's death resurfaced, enhanced by her inability to ignore the pain of another woman's actions, by the impression she couldn't shake that this was somehow betraying Joyce.

Anger because more than anything this hurt brought back the guilt. She shouldn't care. She should be able to live by those words she'd spoken to Harry – just be glad of the parents that she'd gained, but it wasn't that simple. Buffy would never ask for another Mother, she had gained so much from the one she had, but that didn't stop her feeling hurt that another woman had looked at her as a baby, and given her away.

She was almost glad to feel the approach of Faith's consciousness despite what horrors may lie there, of anything that might distract her from the discoveries that had been thrust upon her that evening.

_The first thing that hit her as she emerged from the trance that the knife put upon her was the smell, the metallic scent that the narrow room was doused in. Faith took a step forward, cringing at the sound caused by the tacky floor, her shoes sticking to it like in an irregularly cleaned bar, and took in her surroundings. The room was a mismatch of items, assorted tables and cabinets against the walls with every flat surface filled with miscellaneous wares. Through the piles of bric-a-brac in the long narrow room, she could see the glass panes of the shop lit by a nearby streetlight, highlighting the silhouettes of letters on the glass and casting a pool of light in the entranceway._

_There she could make out shapes of items; a collection of candlesticks stood closely together giving the impression of endless arms, a beheaded mannequin was precariously placed on top of a bookshelf filled with stacks of teacups. But here, deep in the shop the lack of light combined the shadows of antique toys into a terrifying creature, softening the edges of items so they were hard to discern, her eyes unable to focus correctly._

_She took another wary step and something rolled under her foot, almost causing her to slip into whatever was coating the floor. Faith lent down to pick the thing up from the damp floor, feeling a slight spark as she touched it like a static shock. Just a stick, she thought, a stick covered in a thick, tacky liquid, covered in blood. Her eyes had cleared enough to let her see what was before her, in the far depths of the shop. She could see the bodies of the men she'd killed._

_A flash of memory came to her as she looked at the body in front of her; the outstretched hand that had pointed a wand at her now severed from the body, the hand that had held the wand she now carried._

_Faith dropped it back onto the ground, beginning to shake as she absorbed the sight before her._

_She couldn't remember anything beyond the pointed wand and a flash of light, but she didn't need to have the memories to know what had happened, what she had done. Faith was too well trained in the arts of battle; able to read the scene like a book, to see how a blade had cleanly cut through one of her attacker's wrists before being quickly followed by a slice to the neck. That another had approached from the stairwell and received her long knife through his heart courtesy of her well trained aim._

_Looking anywhere but the evidence of her actions, of her guilt, something in the display case beside the stairs caught her eye, sparked a desire that wasn't hers. Before the power of the knife began its fight for control of her, Faith went to the body on the stairs and took the handle of the knife. She wanted that oblivion, to no longer be confronted with what her body had been forced to do._

Buffy rushed to the bathroom as soon as the vision past, unable to keep down her dinner with the evidence of what Faith was being used for. She tried to repress her horror at the scene, to focus on what they might learn from it.

The owners of the shop might have been wizards but it wasn't an entirely wizarding shopping street, Buffy had spotted a muggle department store through the shop window, it's window display lit even at night. It hadn't even been an exclusively wizarding shop. Most of the items had failed to give off the signature she recognised in enchanted items, although many of them did, including the polished silver mirror Faith had focused on. She spent a while trying to decipher the odd letters she had made out in the window, only to conclude that it had probably said ANTIQUES as a pose to the shops name.

There was nothing of note to rush to Dumbledore with… even had he still been residing in the school. She was left with only one person to help her in unraveling her visions, the man who had so summarily banished her from his presence earlier that evening. That, she decided, was what she should be concerned about; not wallowing over something so far in the past, but solving the problems that she faced now.

If only she didn't have to face Snape to do that.

* * *

In another tower, another student lay awake, reflecting on what he had discovered in Snape's office, the meaning behind it all.

I have a sister.

Harry couldn't seem to escape that phrase, it danced round and round in his head and yet he still couldn't make sense of it. That this was the first he had heard of her, that noone had bothered to share something so significant.

He stared at the photo of his parents wedding, seeing in the image of his mother the face currently hidden beneath Buffy's youth, the face that had tried to stop his father… bile rose in his throat at the memory of a writhing boy choking up soap.

This wasn't the father he had imagined, a slightly more reserved version of the Weasley twins, amusing the school with pranks that were rarely humiliating for anyone but the professors and never truly vicious. The boy he'd seen wasn't a trickster. James Potter was a bully, living up to every slight on his character that Snape had ever alluded to. Entertaining friends by harming another person was something Harry had only ever considered the Death Eaters doing not…

_I am the sum of everything I have experienced._

In doubting everything else, Harry couldn't help but doubt the anger that had risen at that sentence, that the professor had dared place any more blame on his father. How much had experiences like the one he'd seen moulded the man Snape became, created the Death Eater. No, that Harry couldn't place at his father's door, Snape had choices, he chose to join the group that tortured muggles and muggleborns just as James had chosen to…

He couldn't understand his father's actions in this, his choice, any more than he could work out how the girl who had intervened became Lily Potter, or how someone who so hated his father for harming another could give up her child. Had James forced her into it somehow, making her disown a baby that must have been born while they were at school, blackmailing her into becoming his wife.

He still wanted to say that none of it was true, that Sirius would have told him about something so enormous, but then he would remember the cruel boy who encouraged his father. Their faces swam in his mind, James and Sirius becoming Dudley and Piers, another pair of bullies he knew all too well, who also combined their strength to leave a single opponent struggling and helpless.

Harry fell into a fitful sleep, unable to reconcile anything he'd seen with the parents he had, only hours before, been so proud to resemble.

* * *

The next morning, Harry emerged bleary eyed but with a new resolve to focus what he had discovered and spent the next day hunting Buffy down, intent on discussing these new discoveries with her, something she had absolutely no interest in. She was forced to avoid communal areas, going to and from meals with friends to deter him from approaching and ducking through little known passageways to escape him.

Even that wasn't enough; with his enchanted map to aid him, by the evening Harry managed to find her in an unused part of the dungeons, ending up chasing her through the corridors when Buffy refused to stop and talk.

Unable to keep up Harry paused and shouted after her, "They cared! They wanted you to come back!"

That forced her to a halt, she couldn't run when she was back there. Trapped in that whirlwind of emotion that she had first felt when she discovered the truth behind her parentage.

When she had hoped to find someone who wanted exactly that.

It felt like there had never been a time when she hadn't known that she was adopted, that it was love not blood that held her world, her family together. But then that little world began to fall apart; she was called and her father left. A long time had passed since Buffy believed any of the childish fantasies she'd once held about her blood relatives, but after dying, after losing so much, she had needed to know.

Who she was. Where she came from.

In that first summer spent in L.A. after the move to Sunnydale she spoke, first to her Father and then, after a frantic phone call, her Mom. They had always said they would support her in finding out if she wanted to know, and at 16 she was allowed to inquire only with their help. Despite understanding Buffy's need to know where she came from, Joyce hadn't been able to help but worry that she would be replaced. However unfounded these worries were, they came to nothing when the Summers discovered that the baby who had become theirs wasn't put up for adoption, it was found. Left out in the cold by people too ashamed to admit they were discarding her.

Buffy heard Harry come up behind her, too lost in her thoughts to face him, to escape him, to evade the warmth of his hand about to touch her shoulder.

"Otherwise why would they have left you the birth certificate and the key?" He prompted soothingly.

Hardly able to register that he must have forced the story out of Neville, Buffy rounded on Harry, anger flashing in her eyes "You don't get it do you? I don't want to know about them." she forced him into a corner, hissing the words, "They abandoned me on the steps of an orphanage. Do you know how much I sometimes wish I didn't have the birth certificate? If it hadn't been there I could have convinced myself that I was the child of some drugged up runaway; just another kid deserted by its messed up mother. By someone hoping to give their daughter a better life than they could. But no, my parents took the trouble to come to a whole different country to abandon their child. I couldn't stop it going round and round my head – if they could get here…" despite her anger she couldn't stop her words catching in her throat, betraying what she didn't want to admit. That however little she wanted to, she did care.

"How come they couldn't keep me?"

Harry moved forward, about to place a calming arm around her slight form, to try and ease her shaking from the sobs that were being held tightly restrained with some brotherly affection, let her know that it was okay to cry with him, but she pulled away. "If they'd wanted to … wanted it enough… I have no doubt my parents could've raised me." She looked directly into Harry's eyes, her anger shining through the tears that were still making tracks down her face.

"I know things about you too; I know you think you lost your chance at a loving family the night your parents died, but that's where we're different. I didn't lose anything. My having no parents was what allowed me to find my Mom. My family. The only thing yours gave me was a name."

She shouldn't have done it, used the gossip about him that was whispered through the school like that. The rumours which were never told quite as eagerly as those of his exploits, sparked by offhand words and forgotten events, tales of just how the saviour of the wizarding world was treated by his Muggle guardians.

Buffy watched the impact of her words on the boy, the crumbling remains of the belief he'd had in his parents finally falling down. For a moment she began to reach for him, regretting the harsh words, the way she had dismissed his hopes that they could become more than friends, but she drew back.

Her calling had left her family broken and destroyed, she couldn't betray their memory by accepting another, couldn't risk her heart. Couldn't risk adding another to the list of those she cared for, those she failed to protect.


	63. Out of the Pan

**_A/N:_****-**_ And even more! On schedule! ... pretty much... I'm ever so grateful to AllenPitt for his input on this chapter, and as ever thank you to everyone who reviewed in the last couple of weeks. I'm delighted that so many people took the time to leave me such kind and thoughtful words - it reminds me what all the effort I put into writing is for._

_The wonderful individuals who were generous enough to leave their feedback are; Tearful Reunion, Undreaming, Totter4, user of the internet and toastbox. I also want to thank and welcome DrgnDrake to the story! It's always nice to see a new user reading and reviewing._

**_Out of the Pan_**

The Great Hall over breakfast was a strange mirror to the one the day before; Harry now pointedly ignoring any eye contact and Snape staring fixedly at her, albeit with more malevolence than Harry had previously displayed and none of the confusion. Something had changed, and while Buffy could understand how their confrontation the evening before had left Harry avoiding her, she couldn't think what could have happened to alter Snape's attitude.

It had seemed, that Snape planned to react to their seeing his most secret memories by ignoring them both, but that attitude had evidently not prevailed. Overnight he had gone from avoiding her eyes to glaring directly into them, his own flashing in anger, in accusation. Unlike Harry there was no escaping once he decided to confront her, not with Buffy timetabled to spend hours in his company.

He stalked about the dungeon classroom like a trapped animal, barely managing to make snide comments at the rest of the class, his attention dangerously focussed elsewhere. Snape passed by her table as Buffy was adding some carefully shredded nightshade petals to her potion and she thought she saw a flash of movement near her pot. For a moment nothing happened, the mixture in her cauldron beginning to approach the correct shade of yellow as she stirred clockwise twice, anti-clockwise once. Then when he had reached the other side of the room, far enough away to have no accountability, that Buffy was beginning to think she had imagined it, her potion started to froth.

The liquid, which was meant to be thickening, rapidly filled with air and expanded, bubbling over the sides of the cauldron, overflowing onto the desk where it continued to fizz. The now vibrant purple bubbles quickly dug through the wooden surface until they was dripping onto the flagstone floor through holes burnt in the desk, landing next to a pair of polished leather shoes which could only belong to one man. Buffy looked up to find Snape glaring at her, unable to make out any satisfaction behind his displeasure despite knowing it must be there.

"Do you plan your damage in advance, or is it just a case of seizing any opportunity?" He spat at her with anger flashing in his eyes, the reaction disproportionate to the destruction, but then that was expected from him.

"I'm sorry." Buffy managed to bite out, unable to hide her resentment of the sabotage.

"I'm sorry, sir." he corrected with a sneer.

"Yes, sir."

"Detention. Tomorrow. I expect you to arrive directly after breakfast," He snapped, "and you'll spend the rest of the lesson cleaning up the mess you've made."

Buffy's anger, if possible, rose as she understood what this was in aid of - he wanted to talk to her about whatever had him so annoyed and this was his method of contriving a meeting. She scowled and turned to get cleaning materials from the back of the room, refusing to acknowledge what he was doing, that it was necessary.

* * *

"Are you okay Harry?" Ginny asked, sitting down beside him.

"I'm fine." Harry said, looking up from the blank piece of parchment on which he had been attempting to compose a Transfiguration essay, unable to think of anything other than the things he had seen in Snape's memory, what Buffy had said.

"It's not your fault you know."

"What?" Harry asked, unsure how she knew...

"That Dumbledore's gone..." She smiled reassuringly, "At least the twins aren't letting her win."

He almost cracked a smile, "I've noticed. I think their last prank stank up an entire east wing of the castle. It's not that though..." Of course, Ginny couldn't really know.

"Yeah, they just can't stand not having anything to do..." She paused, unsure if she should push, "What is it then?"

"I..." Harry paused, not knowing how to explain away what was troubling him before realising what he needed; an explanation that was impossible to obtain, "I just... I just wish I could speak to Sirius."

She looked at him closely, sensing his desperation, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I expect we can figure out a way if you really want to."

Harry let out a burst of disbelieving laughter, "How? She wouldn't let mail through - we didn't even get papers today, and she's policing the fires."

Ginny grinned, "That's the thing about growing up with Fred and George, anything becomes possible. Speaking of... Fred!" She yelled across the common room, beckoning her brothers over, "Now we can make a plan."

"So you want to talk to Sirius?" George clarified following Ginny's explanation.

"Yeah..." Harry confirmed, beginning to warm up to the idea of doing something, anything rather than sitting mulling over what he had learnt.

"There's not a muggle phone in Grimmauld Place... are the fires connected?" Fred asked.

"Yes, but the only one here that's not monitored is in Umbridge's office."

The twins exchanged a glance and grinned at one another, "That's easy then, all we need is a distraction," Fred began, "So you can get into her office." George continued.

"We have something already planned..." They concluded together with broad smiles.

"Next Thursday-"

"Of course." Ginny interrupted with a laugh.

"What?" Harry asked.

Ginny looked at him incredulously, "You mean you haven't seen any of their birthday pranks?"

"We have always tried to live up to expectations..."

"... Can't have the April Fools left without a joke."

"We wouldn't want that." Harry agreed with a grin, vaguely remembering tricks the previous years on April 1st which never quite lead back to the twins. He had usually been too busy with Voldemort or one of his followers to do more than laugh alongside everyone else.

"So this year we thought we'd do something special just for Umbridge."

"Be ready at 5 o'clock on Thursday."

"Don't you want to do it before lunch?" Harry asked.

Fred smiled and shook his head, "We're Fools by birthright, not by when we prank…"

"…the timing just makes it less expected."

"Everyone expects something before noon, you let them think they're safe and then…"

"Bam!" George hit the table with his open palm, making Harry and Ginny jump.

* * *

Buffy shouldn't have been shocked to be confronted with images of the men whose corpses she'd seen, that Faith had killed. She had known that they were wizards so it wasn't strange that their deaths would be reported in the wizarding paper, even if it was only happening three days after the event. She looked away, not wanting to know more about the deed Buffy couldn't help but feel she should have prevented, saved the men from dying, saved Faith from being forced to kill.

Staring fixedly at her breakfast to avoid sight of the papers littered about the hall, Buffy found she had lost her appetite, unable to finish the meal with the memory of their deaths fresh in her mind. She couldn't eat but didn't want to go, not when leaving the breakfast table meant starting her detention with Snape. A detention, she realised as Anthony grumbled about reading day old news, that in all likelihood was about these deaths. That would account for Snape's sudden change in mood.

"Poor Harry." She heard Padma whisper as her friend read through the article and looked up at the comment, confused by how he of all people might have been connected to what had happened.

"Wha..." Buffy began to ask but trailed off, not sure she wanted to know.

"They just don't seem able to report on anything without taking a shot at him. All that stuff with Dumbledore made Harry out to be as bad as him and now..." She shook her head, "The mother of one of them, she's quoted saying 'There is enough evil in the world without people like Harry Potter lying about You-Know-Who to scare everyone.'"

Buffy couldn't shake the knowledge that the evils this grieving mother was referring to had been committed, however unwillingly by Faith, by the hand of a slayer. When her housemates began to discuss the details of the attack Buffy made up her mind, Snape's anger would be preferable to the fascination of her friends, displaying an all too childlike interest in the gory details of a theft and murder. The crime almost reassuring in it's lack of any mystery, of any hint at a connection to You-Know-Who. She all but ran from the hall, marching down to the dungeons and up to his office, determined to get it over with.

There was no answer when she knocked on his door, Buffy paused, unsure how to proceed. She shouldn't enter again without permission, not when faced with a door which had been slammed behind her days earlier, but did not want to raise his ire by not arriving on time.

"Miss Summers." She started and turned to find just the man she had been contemplating. He was fully dressed, complete with a heavy cloak over his normal robes which was marked with dust and slightly damp from the morning rain. "You do have a habit of invading my office at inopportune times."

"You demanded my presence, _sir_." Buffy reminded him, her resentment at his method of doing so returning in response to his tone.

"Yes, I suppose that I did." He agreed, moving wearily into the office and sitting behind his desk. He paused for a moment to gather himself, to erase the traces left by the place he had been, what he witnessed. "Please take a seat."

Buffy recognised the look in his eyes which he was too exhausted to hide, it was something she had seen in the mirror so many times early in the morning after torturous dreams; the empty, glazed stare of someone recovering from magically induced pain. That look, with no intention for it to do so, made her anger drain away.

"Does anyone know?" the words were out of her mouth before she could hold them back, without her having a chance to consider the ramifications of addressing this man in such a manner.

He looked up sharply, not having anticipated this, not expecting understanding when he had been forced to approach this girl, told to beg for her trust, for her forgiveness.

That look of shock gave her all the encouragement she needed to delve further, to ask about a life lived in the shadows, something she understood too well, "Does anyone know what it is you do for them? Does Dumbledore even understand?"

"He knows enough." He replied shortly, closing off against any further questions.

And she understood then that between these two men who hatched the plans to save the wizarding world one thing was never discussed, as she had never really spoken to Giles about the pain caused by her own protection of the world. How can you tell a man who demands you fulfill it the true cost of your duty?

She stared at him for a long moment then shut the door and sat before him, "You wanted to talk about them?" Buffy finally asked, nodding at the paper on his desk.

"It was her then." He stated, the anger from the previous day returning but restrained, "why didn't you tell us?"

"What good would it have done?"

"We might have saved them." He growled.

Buffy shook her head, "They were already dead." She reached for the paper, skimming the article as an excuse to avoid his accusing eyes.

After a long moment he spoke again, his anger replaced with a patronising drawl, "I thought you wanted to find her."

She met his taunting eyes over the paper, "I do!"

"And how do you expect us to achieve that goal if you refuse to keep us informed?"

Buffy felt her cheeks flush, well aware that she had been putting off this meeting. Perhaps she couldn't have come that night, not with the halls patrolled and his banishment, but there might have been opportunities since to speak to him alone had she wanted, even with his avoidance. She hadn't wanted to talk about it, to remember the horror of being the person who had committed those crimes, Faith's growing despair.

She had made excuses, that she couldn't raise any questions of behaviour with Dumbledore gone. That it would be best to wait the week until their next remedial potions lesson, until she had resolved some of the hundred and one issues bombarding her after that night.

Avoiding looking at the man she stared blindly at the paper before her, barely seeing the words, not wanting to. Still unable to read the account of what she had witnessed. Words jumped out at her against her wishes '_death_', '_Auror_', '_mutilated_'. Buffy paused, something about that didn't seem right, her brain taking in more information than she acknowledged as it skimmed over the text. She went back to the line that had jarred.

'_The tragic death of two Aurors who responded to a tip that the shop was a target..._'

They were Aurors.

The men who died had been wizarding police. What reason could they have had to be in an antiques shop? Unless...

"You knew!" This time it was Buffy's eyes which blazed in anger, her energy that seeped out into the room, unsettling the restored order of Professor Snape's office. "You sent them there to die." She growled, staring down the man so many of his contemporaries feared. Unable to believe his hypocrisy for accusing her of withholding information.

"They were sent there to stop the theft." He argued, his ire rising in response.

"That worked well." she laughed bitterly, "Do you want to know the good it did? You put Faith in a position where she had to defend herself while under his control, where she had to kill. You made her want to be controlled by the knife. To be unaware of what she was doing, what she had done. She kept fighting, believing, through weeks of torture but now... she's letting herself go."

He flinched at her words, "I am aware that we underestimated..."

"Underestimated? If you knew where she was going to be why didn't you tell me?" At some point she had stood up, begun shouting her words into his face.

"We didn't think that she would be there."

That made Buffy pause, "What?"

"Dumbledore uncovered references to a ritual requiring the... items you have witnessed Faith recovering." He paused, regaining his composure, "One thing he needed, a silver mirror imbued with a certain rare enchantment, was uncovered in an antiques shop. It was decided that purchasing it would only raise the Dark Lords suspicions so instead-"

"You left it there and he sent Faith to collect it." Buffy interrupted, her limited patience with his explanations waning, "I still don't understand why you didn't send me to capture her."

"It's location was warded, that area of the shop should have been accessible only to wizards."

"Faith got in." She drawled sarcastically.

"Yes."

"So why-"

"We couldn't risk them finding out about you Buffy." Snape shot back with a sneer, "They have one Slayer, how could we give them the opportunity to gain another?"

"Matthew agreed to this..." Buffy realised, her thoughts turning bitter towards the watcher who would abandon Faith's needs in order to protect her, "He wouldn't let you..."

He shook his head sharply, not allowing her to direct her ire to someone else, "None of us wanted to risk it. Not with all the evidence pointing at it being a target easier for wizards to access. Where her skills would be unnecessary. It wasn't worth letting them see you."

"Then why did he send her?"

He stared at her in silence for a long moment, as if he wouldn't deign to answer her, but finally gave in to whatever was preventing him from following his natural impulse with a scowl, "Because he's keeping what he's doing a secret from his followers."

"But if you knew that then-" Buffy began to ask.

"I found out," he glanced at the clock on the wall with a grimace, "two hours ago."

Had that been the cause of his torture, his master demanding a reason for the presence of Aurors at the shop? How, Buffy wondered, had she so quickly forgotten what she'd seen earlier. But then, he wanted her to, played the part of the evil teacher in the way that she had often played up being a teen delinquent. Simultaneously encouraging others to distance themselves and explaining away what you did, keeping everyone away from you. Keeping them safe. Letting them wrongly interpret your efforts while you work in secret to protect them, because to admit what was true was impossible.

"But you know what he's doing?"

"Yes."

Buffy waited, but he refused to elaborate, "Well?" she asked with only slight exasperation. Her anger had been spent without restraint over the last few days, leaving so little left behind to hold onto. What remnants there had been were gone, with only emotional exhaustion remaining in it's wake.

"The items could be used to permanently alter a person's appearance."

"So he wants to stop looking like a man-snake?" Buffy mused, "And he doesn't want you all to know because magic loses it's mystique if you understand how it's done." A big reveal is far more impressive than slowly watching a minion accrue items for a ritual.

"Precisely."

"Are there any other things he needs that..."

"No, anything else required for the ritual is ridiculously commonplace." He saw her skepticism and laughed bitterly, "You think we would hide that from you after this?"

Buffy realised to her surprise that no, she didn't think they would conceal information from her again, they had been given a vicious demonstration of just what they were dealing with. Dumbledore and Snape were not the kind of men to ignore such a lesson.

"Who were they?" She asked quietly, unable to continue her avoidance of knowing what had happened.

"They were both newly graduated Aurors with the unfortunate distinction of being alumni of Griffindor." He began with a deprecating drawl, "The intention was for them to call for back up at the first sign of trouble but..."

"They saw one girl and decided to play at being heroes." Buffy finished for him with a sigh, if only they had understood what being a hero really meant perhaps they would have followed their orders. Perhaps Faith would now be safely captured. She wished for a world where their resolve would have resulted in triumph, unfortunately reality wasn't usually fair.

Buffy had wanted so much to blame someone for what had happened, but instead all she felt was grief. She grieved for the youths whose bravery was only rewarded with death. For Faith whose guilt over actions she hadn't committed was causing her to embrace the oblivion of possession.

* * *

April Fools day had been celebrated in style, Harry reflected. The twins must have sold out of every prank they had manufactured and the Headmistress had spent more of her morning giving out detentions or nullifying spells than teaching. As the twins had predicted, everything had calmed considerably by the end of the last class, with Umbridge actually able to attend a greater part of her lessons in the evening.

Just as the school was breathing a sigh of relief at another year of mayhem gone, the twins struck and Harry, hiding behind a corner where he could observe Umbridge's office, took his chance. He waited only long enough to see its occupant rush after a student, who in gasped sentences while rushing managed to get out the words trapped, swamp and Weasley, before rushing over to the door where he put Sirius' present to good use disabling her locks.

It was only a matter of time before he was in and searching for the Floo Powder.

* * *

If the shock of Harry's face appearing in the fire wasn't enough, then what he was telling them left Remus and Sirius flabbergasted.

"I just wanted to talk about my parents." Harry had said, but this was far more. He unfolded his tale of Snape's memory, of what he had seen his father do. Then as the two men were desperately attempting to digest his words, each haunted in their own way by the memories of their actions, the boy leapt into another story. The tale of a girl who shared his mother's face and name.

They glanced at one another, each pained by the memory of this time long past, this version of themselves they had attempted to forget.

"Harry-" Sirius began before stopping, unsure how to continue, what to say. He looked to the person he trusted to know what was right for guidance.

"I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen..." Lupin began, addressing the easier issue before they approached the other.

"I'm fifteen." Harry responded, dismissing his words and Sirius' attempted explanation that followed.

"What about Buffy... is she..." he shook his head, still unable to understand how it could be true, how they could know this without telling him. "She can't be theirs..." Harry tried to reassure himself, "My mum hated him! Showing off with a Snitch and messing up his hair..."

"He was doing that?" asked Sirius, smiling slightly at the memories Harry's comments had provoked, the grin widening when Harry confirmed with a nod.

"Yeah... he was being a bit of an idiot."

"Of course he was a bit idiotic, we all were!" said Sirius, "Well, Moony wasn't... " he smiled at the man beside him who shook his head dismissively, "but James was especially good at making a fool of himself around Lily, always showing off. She didn't really hate him for it..."

"She started going out with him in seventh year," Lupin commented, his face and voice tight with repressed emotion, with the guilt of actions - or lack thereof - long past, "once he stopped hexing people just for the fun of it."

"So Buffy's..." Harry began, only to be stopped by his former professor holding up a hand for silence.

"Harry, I'm not sure it's right to discuss that now."

"But-"

"This isn't only about you Harry, don't you think she deserves to know who she is first?" Lupin asked kindly but firmly, reminding both man and boy why he had been such a success as a teacher.

"She doesn't care." Harry retorted bitterly.

"What do you mean?"

"Buffy said she had a loving family." Harry couldn't hide his jealousy, "She said that she was glad she'd been abandoned if that was her father. If he could do those things..." He grimaced, his pained features betraying a reluctant agreement with her estimation of the boy.

Remus smiled sadly at what he hadn't said, choosing to address the only part of Harry's comments he felt comfortable talking about, "You have to understand Harry, Snape never missed a chance to curse James so..."

"So he returned the favour."

"Look" Sirius interjected, "your father was the best friend I ever had, and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it."

"Yeah, ok," Harry said with a weary sigh, "I just never thought I'd feel sorry for Snape."

"Now that you mention it," Lupin asked with a slight frown, "how did Snape react when he found you'd seen all this?"

"Don't change the subject! Can't you just tell me if..."

"Harry," said Sirius, in the barely contained calm that any mention of the Potions professor brought on, "what did he do?"

~ to be continued... ~

_**Coming soon (likely to be another fortnight)**__ - How will they find Faith now? How will Umbridge react to the twins escapades? What do Sirius and Remus know?_

**_A/N:_****-**_Thank you for reading, If you have any thoughts/comments/flames feel free to send them my way. I can take it... probably._


	64. After the Wind

**_A/N:-_**_ Sorry been a hectic couple of weeks but I wanted to get this to you asap. It was a pain to get out... so I've been writing right up to the wire. I promise to do my review replies in the next couple of days - and thank you so much to those who left me comments!_

**_After the Wind_**

They watched the fire for innumerable silent minutes after it had gone dim, each wishing that there was a way for Harry to send a sign that he was safe. As time wore on and the lack of anything within the flames proved that his actions at least had not been discovered, their thoughts wandered back to the strange conversation which had been thrust upon them so suddenly.

It was Sirius who broke the silence first, "Buffy… why does that name ring a bell"

"She was the girl that Dumbledore invited me to help train at the beginning of the year." Remus responded shortly, his mind still elsewhere as he stared into the flames.

The man beside him sat quietly at that response, knowing his friend well enough to understand Remus' need for time to consider what they had found out, but Sirius had never been good at awkward silences and was soon unable to resist the urge to ask, "So she's…"

"What do you think?" Remus bit out angrily, the wolf lurking dangerously close to the surface.

Sirius looked up sharply at his tone, noticing how affected his friend was by what they had been told, "Well…" he responded in an easy manner, seeking to calm the beast, "I thought that she died."

That finally drew Remus' eyes away from the fire, letting him see the hurt in his companion at this betrayal of friendship, the lies which had been told by omission in every direction. Sirius had thought the baby died, Remus had thought Sirius was their friend's secret keeper. How many secrets had these boys turned men kept from one another? The layers of small doubts in each other, of hidden actions, failures to trust, which had built up into something so terribly fatal.

"I'm sorry…" he began, his tension draining away, but Sirius wouldn't let him finish, laying a hand on his arm and minutely shaking his head. Letting him know it was okay, he was forgiven before even asking for it.

"She's alive." Sirius said to himself, his voice filled with wonder. Then all his solemnity left as he met Remus' gaze head on with a grin spreading over his face, reminding his friend that this discovery was a good thing, an amazing thing, not something to be worried about the logistics of. Remus could only grin back, bask for a minute in the joy of the moment.

"How long have you known?"

"I suspected when I last saw her at Hogwarts, Ron mentioned some rumours about her arrival that made me look at her again… I wanted to confirm it, to speak to her before discussing it with anyone else. But then…"

"But then Dumbledore sent you off chasing werewolves the whole winter and now Umbridge, with all her prejudices, has taken over the school." Sirius paused, a vulnerable expression tingeing his features, "Does Dumbledore know?"

"No. You are the first to learn of this, my friend." They shared a look of understanding, reaffirming their friendship, which was broken when Remus turned back to the fire with a resigned sigh, "Dumbledore needs me to go back; to try and find out more about this girl they captured. What can we do? I'm not sure it's something she should be told through a letter, if one could even get past that woman."

Sirius watched his friend watch the fire, wanting to offer some comfort, to help him in some way, but there was a question which had to be asked, however little either of them wished to think about it, "Does this mean she might be a…"

"No!" Remus cut him off with a glare, not letting Sirius say the word that would be so damning, his eyes seemingly still filled with the reflection of the blaze. He took a deep breath and emitted all that outrage with a sigh, "I don't know. I hope not." he sighed again, unable to hold in the fears that matched his friend's, fears that had been eating away at him for months, "It's not something I would wish upon anyone."

"What do you plan to do?"

"She deserves to know."

"So does he." Sirius sharply retorted, unable to help prioritising one of his friend's children over the other, to forget how much he had to make up to Harry. What ever happened to Buffy had been beyond his control, but Harry's grief could have been prevented. His childhood so different if only Sirius had remained secret keeper.

"Yes, but…" he hesitated, glancing at Sirius with concern, worried he might take matters into his own hands, "you don't agree with what I told him?"

"He has a sister damn it! Yes, I think Harry deserves to know that."

"Before she knows what happened to her? Before she…"

"If I thought that I wouldn't have let you say what you did, would I?" he said with a rueful smile, "Just… this needs to be done soon. He's frustrated by all this uncertainty, Harry will only get angrier."

"Don't you think I know that? If I… if either of us could speak to her, to both of them properly but…"

"Neither of us is in a position to reach them." Sirius finished for him.

They sat quietly together, each lost in their own thoughts, unable to get past those last indisputable words. There was no way to get access to those at the school while it remained under Delores Umbridge's jurisdiction.

"That's enough to make you give up?" Remus heard Sirius ask after so long a break that he'd almost forgotten there was someone else there. It had been so many years since he'd had a friend to turn to, to rely on, that he wasn't sure he knew how to anymore. He turned to find a familiar expression of resolve emerging on his friend's features, "Harry managed to reach us despite the obstacles."

* * *

"I still can't believe Snape forgot to take points from you." Michael said as Buffy joined him and Anthony in the entrance hall where they were waiting for her beside the huge hourglasses which calculated House points, "I mean you destroyed his lab and only-"

"Can it, Michael." Anthony spoke before Buffy could comment, "You've been going on about it all week. It's not as if she didn't get a detention - for the whole of Saturday!"

"But-"

Michael's continual comments had been annoying Anthony more each time they were repeated, and the boy had finally snapped, "Do you _want_ us to lose points, to give up any chance at the Cup?"

"Of course not!" the boy exclaimed, shocked that Anthony would even suggest such a thing.

"Then for God's sake stop mentioning it where a snake might overhear you and _remind_ him."

Buffy laughed along with her friend at Michael's shocked reaction to that potential ramification of his comments, grateful that she hadn't been forced again to try and hide her thoughts on the topic. She suspected the reason no points had been taken; because it would be unfair to punish her and her house for a crime she didn't commit. The detention had been a necessary means of gaining time alone to discuss what Faith had done, anything more wasn't needed.

It wasn't fair to take house points for something he'd done, so Snape hadn't taken any. That, more than anything else he had said or done made Buffy reluctantly trust the potions Professor, believe in Dumbledore's assurances that the man was on their side. Not that he'd had any qualms about having taken points when she'd been the one to contrive a reason to meet, but then Buffy had deliberately disrupted one of his classes. That was not something he was likely to forgive anyone else.

Before they could enter the Great Hall, the sound of running feet and yells drew their attention. The entrance hall began to fill up with panting students, most bearing either the new 'I' of the Inquisitorial Squad, or some strange kind of ooze on their robes.

"Just wait," A chunky Slytherin prefect bellowed as she attempted to catch her breath, "They'll be coming this way any moment."

As the crowd in the entrance regained their composure, a similar sound grew louder above, filtering down the marble staircase. Buffy looked up to see two figures running before a mob of angry students.

"What have those two done this time?" She heard muttered in slightly amused annoyance and turned to find Professor McGonagall attempting to hide the twinkle of humour in her eyes, flanked by most of the faculty of the school. The entrance hall was filling up now, bustling with not just those out to aid capture, but other students on their way to dinner who had been distracted by the commotion.

"We've got you now!"

The shout from the stairs drew her attention back up to where the two being hunted, the Weasley twins, were poised at the edge of a landing, the stair they needed being held by other students at the other side of the stairwell. As a perfect mirror of one another, they turned to face the other and shrugged before diving off the landing, wands outstretched. It was only when they hit the floor that she saw what they had done, casting cushioning charms ahead of them to break their fall, allowing their magic to work together to turn their simple spells into a soft spot big enough to save them.

They rolled to their feet just as the Slytherin prefect took a step forward and, with the assistance of other members of the Inquisitorial Squad, created a human barrier, blocking their only escape.

Except the twins never went with just a Plan A, or even limited themselves to a Plan B, they were quite happy if the situation required it to fall back onto Plan J, to summon their brooms and make a final exit from the school which would turn them into legends.

"Did you see Michael?" Anthony commented as they belatedly took their seats at the Ravenclaw table, "She didn't even get a chance to take points."

* * *

"Buffy!" The whisper echoed through the entrance hall, though the furtive manner in which Hagrid was beckoning her to the door implied that he believed he was being subtle. "I've gotta speak ter yeh."

"What do you need?"

"Not 'ere." he squinted out through an eye half shut by a bruise marring his face at the students milling past, drawing attention with his misguided attempt at subtlety, "The clearin', t'night." Buffy nodded and was about to move on when he stopped her and bellowed in a more usual tone, "Don' forget, Professor Snape's lesson t'morrow nigh'"

He patted Buffy on the shoulder as he turned to limp past her through the door into the rain, missing the interested looks still aimed their way by members of the Inquisitorial Squad.

The woods were quiet when she entered them, the creatures still hiding out after the heavy downpour earlier, and Buffy hurried through the trees to Grawp's clearing. She spotted a large figure lurking on the edge of the tree line, beyond the reach of the creature's wrath, but before she could let out a greeting he shook his head and beckoned her over.

"He's sleepin'" he said softly, pointing over at a huge lump on the muddy ground which slowly rose and sank along with a steady rumbling. Hagrid pulled her away until the sound of the giant's snores were no longer so clear, and then started to pace.

"Righ'" he finally began as he stopped too-ing and fro-ing before Buffy, "see... the thing is..." Hagrid awkwardly tried to begin again, fidgeting with his hands before finally blurting out, "Well, there's a good chance I'm goin' ter be gettin' the sack any day now."

"Why? What reason could Umbridge..." Buffy trailed off as she remembered the High Inquisitor's reaction to Hagrids return, brought into a new light having seen for herself the woman's dislike of Werewolves and Centaurs, her distrust of anything not wholly human. She looked up at the towering man, his figure might be diminutive in comparison to the giant sleeping nearby, but there was no doubt the two shared some common heritage. The rumours of him being a half-giant were true, and that alone without the questions about his teaching which seemed to routinely circle about the Ravenclaw common room, or the frequent and vicious injuries he received at the hands of the giant, would have caused her to seek his removal.

"Tha' woman n'ver liked me" Hagrid replied, confirming Buffy's suspicions, "an' she needs to do somethin'. 'specially since th' twins went." he shrugged, "It doesn' help tha' she thinks I put a Niffler in her office today."

"A Niffler?" She vaguely wondered if this was what had the school so excited at dinner, Buffy had been too busy scoffing down food for an early escape to pay attention.

The twin's departure hadn't caused a decrease in the pranks being used to undermine the new headmistress, though the inventiveness of the disruptions had taken a hit. The week that followed had seen corridors filled with so many foul odours that Professor Flitwick hadn't had any complaint when he extended his permitted spells to include Bubble-Head Charms for all age groups.

"Yeah. Wen' after 'er jewellery. Anythin' ter do with magical creatures an' she thinks it's got somethin' ter do with me."

"I don't see what I can do to stop her firing you." Buffy trailed off, even more uncertain why she was here than she had been before the conversation began. "Do you think it's a Ravenclaw that..."

"Nah, 'm not worried 'bout tha'. Once I'm outta 'ere I can go an' help Dumbledore. I'd leave righ' now, before she gets a chance ter put on a show, if it wasn' fer..." He glanced back towards the clearing where faint rumblings indicated the giant was still asleep and Buffy finally understood.

"You want me to... feed it?"

"Nah, Grawp can get his own food, no problem." Hagrid seemed almost proud of that fact, "He just needs company, someone to talk to. I've bin tryin' ter teach him English." he finished sheepishly.

"You... want me to talk to him?"

"He already respects you. If yeh talk ter 'im an' show tha' we want 'im ter stay."

"He wants to go? That's why he's tied up?" Buffy clarified, beginning to realise why the centaurs had such a problem with the giant's presence. Having such a dangerous creature there was one thing, there were many dangerous beasts in the forest, but keeping him there against his will was another thing entirely. She had thought the restraints were more to protect others than keep him trapped, vaguely assumed that Hagrid was healing him and needed to prevent movement, but instead they held him here against his will, no wonder the giant lashed out at anyone who came near him.

"He jus' doesn' understand." Hagrid protested, "He's small - on'y sixteen foot - so he was bein' bullied, had bin kicked aroun' by all o' them. I couldn' leave 'im ter get hurt again - he's my brother."

Regularly bumping into one another in the forest had caused some measure of respect to grow between Buffy and the half-giant over the previous months, sparked from that initial leap of faith each made, trusting the other to keep their secret. With Hagrid so open where she was unwilling to discuss her life, it was inevitable that she knew things about him; knew that despite his size he was caring and loyal, never using his magnitude as a weapon against others. She knew that his father had been a single parent and died when he was young, how much he craved family, evident in the almost brotherly friendship he shared with Harry Potter, proudly recounting his accomplishments.

No wonder he had been unable to leave his brother in a place he would be harmed.

"Hagrid," Buffy began gently, "You can't keep him here forever."

"If I can teach 'im a few manners, I'll be able ter take him outside an' show ev'ryone he's harmless." He was as oblivious to the incredulous look that adorned Buffy's face as he had been to the interest of the students earlier. "I don' wan' yeh ter put yerself out too much... jus' ter nip down an' have a little chat if yer in th' forest. I'll wake 'im up - introduce yeh prop'ly."

Buffy pulled on his arm as he began to move back towards the clearing. "I don't think he likes me-"

"Nah, like I said, he respects yeh. You beat 'im, an' that means a lot ter giants."

What Hagrid didn't seem to consider was that when respect was won through combat, a sore loser or one who believes himself unfairly beaten, will just keep demanding a rematch. He picked up a long branch on the way to the clearing and poked the slumbering lump in the back with it, causing him to wake with a start, pulling at the ropes that bound him and shaking the trees they were tied to.

Nesting birds flew, startled, out of the trees at the ruckus and he reached out, trying to catch them out of the air, looking surreally like a huge toddler grasping at dandelion seeds as they float on the wind. One of his attempts was successful and he shoved the bird into his mouth whole, fragile bones crunching between his teeth.

"Grawpy!" Hagrid bellowed up at him, "I've brought a friend ter meet yeh." The giant blearily looked their way as he munched on the eagle he had caught, not seeming to take in what Hagrid was saying. "Remember, I told yer I might? Remember, when I said I might have ter go on a trip an' leave her ter look after yeh for a bit? Remember that, Grawpy?"

That seemed to elicit some reaction, or perhaps Grawp had just finished his snack and see what was making the noise. The sight of Buffy caused an immediate reaction, a huge hand darting out to grab her with a speed that was so surprising for a creature of his size that Buffy would have been caught had she not experienced it before. She dove out of the way and rolled to avoid the second attempt to get her, an unnecessary action as Hagrid stood in the way. "GRAWPY NO!" he stood directly between them, stupidly facing down the giant, "This is Buffy. Yeh remember her don' yer?"

The low roar he responded with sounded angry enough that Buffy began to wonder if he had understood, if he was saying just how well he did remember her. Or then again it could just be his reaction to seeing her again. She warily stood up at Hagrid's urging and came up beside him to face the giant.

"Buffy's goin' ter... Bad boy, Grawpy" he finished in a cut off yell as, with a lighting fast back hand, the giant knocked Hagrid aside and lunged once again at Buffy.

Buffy realised she needed to do something to justify the respect Hagrid believed this giant held her in. She couldn't just tamely move out of the way. His head was near to the ground and, with a running leap, she climbed on top of it dancing about on his moving shoulders as he attempted to get her. He misjudged one grab, managing to hit the side of his head with his own fist, and slumped down to the ground, giving Buffy a chance to jump down and away.

"Tha's better." Hagrid shouted out with a grin despite his newly split lip, "Buffy'll come fer a chat when I'm gone. Yeh can play more then."

Grawp rumbled in response and began to play with one of the pine trees ringing his clearing, apparently dismissing them. From a sitting position he half heartedly pulled on a rope attached to his foot, making the tree it was attached to bend back with a creak before releasing a shower of leaves. This demonstration of his strength made Buffy think back to her initial encounter with the giant, uncertain how much playing she could survive. She glanced over at Hagrid as they moved away, not sure how to broach the subject, how to look into that thankful gaze and tell him the assumption she could help was wrong.

"Are you sure that..." She trailed off as figures emerged from the foliage around them, bow strings twanging as they were drawn to point at the man beside her whose huge crossbow was raised in retaliation.

"Were we not clear, Hagrid, when we said you were not welcome here?" one of the centaurs stepped forward and scowled at Hagrid before turing his attention to her, "You too should take heed, we will not allow meddling in our affairs, those from the school will no longer be tolerated in the Forest."

"Excuse me?" Buffy asked, the centaurs had been vaguely hostile when she had been granted their help getting to London, but none of them had outright threatened her except... she looked closer at the centaur, remembering him from that night, the then vague threats he had issued which had quickly been overridden.

"Why am I again forced to remind you, Magorian, even without the debt we owe her, the Slayer cannot be denied access to the Forest." A deep voice came out of the shadows, less bitter and more calm than the other centaur's, preventing Hagrid from voicing his anger.

"That debt was repaid." Another of the Centaur's spoke up, the dark haired Bane who had been so keen to kill the giant on the night that she saved the foal.

"Is that the price you put on our young?" Chrixon repeated his cautions, stepping forward and directing his comments as much to their spokesman as to Bane. Somehow the older centaur seemed to have lost his prime position within the warrior group, "That once reciprocated the actions that save them can be forgotten, our treatment of their saviour descend into threats?"

"It is those actions you claim I have forgotten that stayed my hand tonight, protected her friend." Magorian waved aside the two centaur's arguments, and glared at Hagrid meaningfully, "I will not allow him amnesty another night, irrespective of his company. He knew when he protected the traitor Firenze what the consequence of going against us would be."

"And he knew that creature would not be ignored indefinitely." Bane added, "The giant is a menace to all who live here."

"Yer don' get ter say who..."

"The Forest tolerates only so much change to its balance, something that threatens that will always be rectified. You have been told this before, Human, consider this the last warning for both yourself and your charge." As Magorian spoke his comrades had followed some indiscernible signal and faded back into the trees, leaving him only flanked by Bane and Chrixon as he nodded with an air of finality and turned to leave himself.

Buffy grabbed hold of Hagrid, stopping him from lunging forward, "The Forest nothin'. He's got as much righ' ter be here as anyone." he yelled after them, held back only by the grip Buffy had on his arm.

"Acromantula, Dragons, Giants... What will that man get next?" Even without seeing it, Buffy could hear the scowl in Bane's voice.

"At least he had the sense to keep the dragon out of the forest." they heard Chrixon respond with his customary calm before even the sound of their hooves disappeared amongst the trees.

Hagrid was still trying to pull away from her, his finger on the trigger twitching. All his worries over his job, his brother ready to be taken out on the only solid threat, anything to think about something other than the trouble coming, "You had a dragon?"

"Norbert?" He said distractedly, "Got 'im as an egg. Hatched it m'self."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Dangerous?" He turned to her, finally lowering the crossbow, "Nah. It's wha' the wizards who rode dragons used ter do. Built a connection, and 'sides Norbert wouldn' hurt anyone."

"Wizards can ride dragons?" She hurried after Hagrid who had begun to stomp back towards the school, not limiting his stride to one so much smaller than her. Buffy tried to fit this information in with what she had been told about the events the previous year, of Harry's famous flight eluding the Horntail.

"No' recently, but they used to. We don' know how ter bond 'em like that anymore. 'parently some were so closely linked ter their dragon, th' wizard could breathe fire!"

An image of Hagrid astride a dragon with a singed beard flickered through her mind, the thought oddly amusing rather than terrifying. The huge man was too good natured to be seen as a threat, despite his somewhat naive approach to the creatures in his care.

"Oh, I f'got." He started rummaging through the pockets in his huge coat pulling out a bizarre collection of objects each of which were quickly returned before finally he found a thick envelope. "Fer you."

"What..." she trailed off as she noticed writing scrawled on the white envelope, new enough to maintain a crisp feel despite the slight scuffs on the corners from his pocket.

_I understand you have discovered certain truths. Your mother left this with me before she went into hiding. I hope it may help you understand what happened._

"You okay?" The gruff words shocked her out of the stupor she hadn't noticed entering. Staring at the words that promised everything she didn't want, confirmation of what had happened to her, excuses she has no desire to receive. "He thought yer would..."

"Want this?" Buffy interrupted whatever he had wanted to say, explain the good intentions of the person that was preventing her from putting this behind her, trying to force her to confront the very thing she was trying so hard to forget.

"Buffy..." Hagrid trailed off whatever he had been planning to say, uncertain how to respond to her cutting tone. "He didn' mean ter..."

"It doesn't matter." Buffy cut him off again, "Thanks for passing it along. I'll see you around."

She stuffed the envelope in her back pocket and turned back to the forest, taking off at a run into the thickest part of the trees, towards something that might help her release the anger those words had caused. That they had thought they deserved a chance to explain.

Any rights they might have had were given up the moment she was abandoned.

* * *

Hours later, after washing the remains of her encounters in the woods from bloodied hands, Buffy pulled the now crumpled paper out, staring again at the words on it before reaching inside. Inside the envelope she found another, this one wasn't new, the paper browned and ink faded by time. This writing was in a different, clearer hand. Addressing what was within to someone whose existence Buffy had tried so hard to deny.

_Anne Silvia Evans_


End file.
